Peace On Earth, Goodwill To Turtles
by Blue
Summary: My 1998 Christmas special. Light and fun, but it also deals with religious issues.


_Warning! This story contains some cursing and adult situations which may be inappropriate for some readers. This story is voluntarily rated PG for parental guidance. This story also contains religious discussion which may be offensive to some readers._

# December 20, 2004

Leonardo paced beneath the sewer grate nervously. Nearby, Michaelangelo lounged against the wall next to his bags, cradling his cat Klunk. Splinter appeared at the tunnel's entrance, whiskers twitching nervously. "Is there any sign of Raphael yet?" Splinter asked with concern. 

Leo sighed. "No, Master," he said. "And April will be here any minute!" He scowled. Once again, Raphael was holding them up. But why? Raph hadn't been around the past few days, but he knew perfectly well what time had been set for April and Casey to pick them up, and he wasn't here. Leo checked his watch. 5:55. Five minutes he had, maybe less. Where was he? Surely he wasn't still mad about being voted down seven to one about spending the holiday at the farmhouse in Northampton? Leo sighed again. With Raph, you never knew. 

The grate lifted and a pair of booted feet coated with sidewalk slush appeared on the ladder. The man descended; it was Casey, in his heaviest winter clothes. "Ready?" he asked to the group in general. 

"Yup," said Mike, pulling his hat lower over his head. "Lead on." He gave a small bow of mock subservience before each of them lifted a bag to carry up the ladder. Leo sighed and glanced once down the tunnel, then picked up his own luggage and climbed up. Parked in the deserted side street was April's van, with a luggage rack and carrier that had been hastily bolted to the roof. Casey stepped onto the door ledge to lift the Turtles' bags into the carrier, which April had opened. She grinned at them, nearly lost in a blue scarf. Leo helped Master Splinter to get his bags into the van, then returned below. Splinter sighed and shook his head. He had hoped his angriest son would accompany them, but he had learned often enough that Raphael could not be predicted or controlled. He climbed into the back of the van and smiled at Shadow, who was leaning against her "parents" seats. 

Mike went to join Leo as he stood scanning the tunnel. He frowned. Leo was doing his best to look angry, but he was obviously disappointed that Raphael had opted out of the family get-together. _Poor Leo, he takes everything so seriously,_ Mike thought as he, too, looked up and down the tunnel and even shouted Raph's name. He placed a heavily gloved hand on Leo's shoulder. "Face it, man," he said. "He's not coming." Leo slumped in defeat. 

"I was just-- I thought he'd still want to come," Leo said softly. Raphael was the only one who voted to stay in the city; most of them wanted the change of pace and the quiet, and Shadow wanted to be pulled out of school two days early. _What kid wouldn't?_ wondered Mike. He caught himself grinning and extinguished his playful expression. He didn't want Leo thinking he didn't care about Raph not coming, because he did. Just no point in worrying; Raph was Raph, after all. Mike gently towed Leo to the ladder and pushed him up it. April was already in the van, Casey leaning against it. 

"Raph here?" he asked. Leo silently shook his head and grabbed the van door to pull himself in. Mike followed. Suddenly there was a splatting sound, as of snowballs striking something. Leo heard muffled cursing and went to wrench the door open, but someone did it before him. Raph grinned and tossed his bag into the back of the van. Casey stomped up and down the sidewalk, trying to swipe the snow from his face. 

"Hey guys," Raph said as he vaulted into the van. Leo glared at him, but he was plainly relieved. 

"'Bout time you got here." 

"I love you too, bro," Raph said. "Hiya, Shadow." 

"Uncle Raph!" she said as she crawled over to hug him. Casey, now fairly snow-free, climbed into the driver's seat. 

He looked in the rearview mirror at Raph. "I'll get ya, punk, just wait. Everybody stay in one place, now. I'd love trying to explain you guys to the coroner." 

"Yeah, and we all know how YOU drive," joked Mike. 

"Yeah, well, you were warned." Casey started up the car, and they were off on what was easily the most boring trip in the universe: the drive to Casey's family farm in Northampton. 

They were all thinking happy thoughts: looking forward to Christmas, a chance to be together for a change, and seeing Donatello again. Raph pondered the events of the past year: they had grown apart somewhat more than he liked. Leo and Splinter were the same as ever, hanging out in the sewers and doing ninja stuff, Leo doing stuff for Casey or April when he needed cash. Leo didn't seem to mind depending on the humans for support and livelihood. But Raph and Mike and Don did mind. Don, with the help of some of his human friends, had started to pull together Don Harlem Enterprises, a business in which he was the sole acting board member and pretty much the only solid employee. Mostly he programmed video games and had them manufactured and sold--he'd had to borrow heavily to finance his ventures, but he had come back quickly, and was now turning quite a nice profit, certainly enough to support him and his numerous "projects"; including the genetics research on mutants, which he had sworn never to go public with. "Too dangerous," he had said over and over, when his human friends urged him to reveal his findings. 

Then there was Mike, still living out of April's apartment, but now paying steady rent and buying his own food, thanks to some sales of his poetry, and more recently, his artwork. And himself--_I haven't come outta this year too shabby myself,_ he thought with no little satisfaction. The year hadn't started out too great: he'd felt so lost. All the others had their professions, their interests at least, but what could he do with his life? Then he found out. He'd been hanging out with Leo, principally, but one day he'd been in Mike's apartment, cat-sitting Klunk, and baby-sitting Shadow, when he'd seen Mike's typewriter sitting prepped for use, and a stream of wild ideas had suddenly popped into his head. For once, he was unsure of himself as he sat before the machine, then he hesitantly began to tap out what he was thinking. He ended up spending the rest of the evening writing down those crazy thoughts. But he didn't think much of it, because when it was time to leave Mike's place, he just chucked the whole thing, went off to Japan for a brief vacation, and forgot about it. 

It wasn't until a few weeks later that Raph heard from Mikey again. He was in the den when Mike called him and asked him to come over. His little brother's face was registering surprise; his typewriter was set up, and Raph remembered the event which happened before his departure. He had been assuming that Mike was about to bawl him out for wasting nearly a sheaf of costly typewriter paper, plus the ribbon, so his jaw really dropped when Mike handed him a copy of SF and Fantasy magazine, opened to page 23, and jabbed his finger at the header. The story was "Dreaming of Dragons." The byline read, "Raph Splintersson." As Raph incredulously scanned the page, he realized that the story was his own, the one he had written those few weeks ago. 

"Congrats, bro," Mike said softly. "Hope ya don't mind--I saw it in the trash can and thought it was too good to waste. Apparently I'm not the only one who thought so." And Raph found his purpose. He smiled, remembering those first few exciting weeks as he settled into a sort of rhythm. He had stayed with Leo a while longer, then finally moved in with Mark, Don's friend from GR. April had helped him set up a bank account under the name Mike had chosen to publish him under, which Raph sort of liked, though he wouldn't admit it. (Mike and Don already had such accounts, Leo didn't want or need one.) He had settled into a groove, finding that his brain only really started working around 10 or 11 PM, then adjusting his schedule to fit. Writing from around 8 or 9 to maybe 3 or 4 am, then sleeping extremely late, rising in early afternoon. When he felt too pent, he'd declare an evening off, grab Casey or some of his GR pals, and go skull-busting. 

It felt good to Raph, and he soon found himself adequately supported, though not rich, not by a long shot. He paid expenses, and kept working on his short stories, some of which sold, some of which didn't. He was also secretly at work on his latest project, a novel, which was moving along very fast, thanks to a recent burst of cash that had allowed him to finally splurge on a PC. It was great to no longer rely on fickle typewriters. At first he'd worried that Mike was jealous of his new skill; after all, he'd been considered the group writer for years. But if anything, Mike was proud of Raph, and was in fact more interested in art than writing. _Doin' his namesake proud,_ Raph thought idly. He hummed a snatch of song to himself. All of them so split apart by varying interests. Christmas time it might be--_The sappiest time of the year._--but it brought them all together, and Raph was willing to endure all the Christmas crap for that reason. 

Mike smirked across at him, as though sensing his thoughts. "So, Raph, actually comin' out of your shell this year? Not gonna hide in the shadows and sulk again?" Leo gave him a warning look. _He's in a good mood. Don't antagonize him, Mike._ But Raph was remarkably controlled. He located his walkman in his bag and slipped on the earphones, calmly ignoring Mike, who was grinning as he stroked the soft cat in his lap. He tried to let the Green Day music drown out Mike's good-natured banter with Shadow and April. Leo was dozing lightly. He hated getting up before dawn. Splinter sat and calmly took it all in, glad that this year would be free of distraction, a time of joy instead of a time of pain. _No,_ he warned himself. _Leave thoughts of past Christmases behind. This will be different._ He didn't know why, but he had an overwhelming sense of....peace? That was certainly a change. Usually his strong premonitions heralded danger, not happiness. But why rock the proverbial boat? _Let it be a happy holiday this year,_ he willed. 

***

At long last, the van pulled up in front of the house and they began to climb out. Casey reflected that the house was looking better than it ever had; even in those old photos before his grandfather died and the place broke down. The whole thing had a new coat of paint, the shutters, roof, and porch had been repaired, and the lawn now sported two windmills. Perhaps letting Don live here was a smart move after all. 

Don came running from the barn in heavy clothes. Obviously he'd been doing something; he still held a hammer in one hand. He jammed it into his tool belt and gasped, "Sorry, lost track of the time." Then he was embracing April, Splinter and Shadow (She was growing up smart and pretty, and though she wasn't related to April, Don thought Shadow was very like her.) and exchanging affectionate punches with his brothers and Casey. (Was it his imagination, or had Casey winced when Don socked him? 'Course, he was probably entitled; the C-man was, after all, pushing 36. But it was weird to think of Casey as middle-aged.) For a moment, the exhaustion induced by the long trip was forgotten as Mike grinned, shoved Don over, and began an impromptu wrestling match in the snow. But then it flooded back. Don pulled Mike to his feet. "C'mon, let's go into the house." 

Don made hot chocolate; he appeared to have stocked up on it in a big way. One cabinet was entirely filled with boxes and cartons of the stuff. Casey unloaded the groceries he had picked up at the last minute in a Northampton corner grocery. Mostly cookie ingredients that Mike had insisted on. Casey grunted as he deposited the last bag on the table. "Dang, Mike, ja get enough stuff?" asked Don, peering into the bags. 

"Can never have to many cookies," proclaimed Mike, and began to rummage in the fridge. Don sniggered. 

"Don't spoil your appetite, I'm making you dinner." 

"Oh no!" cried Mike. "Not again!" They remembered Don's last cooking attempt with little fondness. After they had finished mopping up the gravy and bits of lumpy mashed potato and stuffing from the floors and walls, they had vowed never to speak of it again. Mike staggered about, clutching his throat. "Hellllpppp....we might as well call the paramedics now." 

Don chuckled at Mike's antics. "Don't worry," he said. "I've been practicing. I'm really not as bad as I once was. Actually, I made my own dinner last night and it was pretty good." 

"Define 'good'," said Casey. 

Leo snorted. "Well who else is gonna make it for you?" 

"Ahh," said Don. "Chef Boyardee and his friend--Dominoes." They all laughed at Don. 

"Really," said Mike, grinning. "What are you making?" 

"Ummm...spaghetti. Didn't say I was a gourmet chef yet. But I'm gettin' there." Don grinned. "And I bought bread, so we're going to eat that before you make any." 

"No fair!" exclaimed Mike. 

Don cackled. "Keep you out of my kitchen for one more night. Besides, you should rest. It's a long drive up here." Mike stuck his tongue out at Don. 

"Maybe this won't be so bad, after all," said Splinter with a smile. 

"Speak for yourself--I remember what this guy did to my apartment!" April joked. They didn't comment, but they all noticed that Raph had been uncharacteristically silent during this exchange. Usually he would be there, offering his own jibes at Don's cooking. But they all knew why he wasn't talking, and it was not a pleasant memory. 

_(They were watching TV in the den when Raph suddenly stormed in. He switched off the TV and stood in front of it, only glaring in answer to Mike's protests. Splinter looked up, concerned by this sudden appearance of Raphael. It did not bode well. Leo also looked idly up from the book he was reading, sensing the impending doom that seemed to cloud the whole sewer den. Raph was livid. "Don," he growled in a low voice. "I have put up with this crap for weeks now, but I have HAD it!" They all stared up at him in puzzled shock. Raph suddenly slammed the focus of his displeasure to the coffee table's surface. Leo drew in his breath sharply as he suddenly understood Raph's fury. _

"Oh, geez, not with the pamphlets again," Leo muttered to himself. 

"Don," Raph said coldly. "I have made it clear from the first, we ALL have, that I, we, are not interested. But ever since that friggin' church accepted you last month, you've been in all our faces, with the evangelism, and the Bible quotes, and the bullshit about the Son of God and the rest of it. I am SICK AND TIRED of you trying to force-feed me this garbage! It's CRAP, okay? Every day, we go out and fight and try not to get killed, every day we hafta stop sick people from doin' sick things to each other, while your GOD, your SAVIOR, stands by and watches. And then I'm supposed to believe all this phony bullshit that church feeds you, about the love of God, and saving mankind. 

"Well I'm NOT mankind, okay? And neither are you! You should be able to see through these guys, recognize what they really are! They're PHONIES, Donatello, and I can't stand the idea of becoming one of them, like YOU ARE TRYING TO DO, AND YOU ARE TRYING TO MAKE ME DO!" Raph screamed the last part. "If you were willing to leave well enough alone when I told you to, I would have too! But Don--you come in my room, MY ROOM, leave this trash lying there, and I am NOT going to keep quiet about it any LONGER!" His voice dropped to a hiss. "Listen to me, Jesus freak, and listen good. There's no room in this family for people who can't stay out of other peoples' lives. Either YOU get out, or I'M getting out." 

His brothers stared at him in shocked amazement through Raph's outburst. Don just sat there. Sat there and took it. Raph waited, tight-lipped, for Don to say something, anything, but there was total silence. Raph turned on his heel and stalked back to his room. Leo was pale and trembling. Why didn't Splinter say something? It wasn't Raph's right to break up the clan! But Splinter said nothing. He seemed as amazed and concerned as Leo. Don slowly stood, turned and went to his room. Minutes later, he reappeared, with his bag slung over his shoulder. 

"I'm spending the night at April's," he said quietly, and then he was gone. It was certainly no coincidence that Donatello left for the farm shortly afterwards. First Casey and April, then Mike and Leo, then finally Splinter tried to talk him out of leaving, but he wouldn't listen. Don only returned to the lair once, to pick up the rest of his stuff. Raph wasn't around. They two would not speak, would not even attempt to meet and talk it out, as Splinter urged them to. 

Leo wasn't sure how he felt about the whole incident. He had always accepted Buddhism as his primary source of faith. Mike was pretty uncaring, and Raph was a definite atheist. Splinter's religious principles were unclear, but he supported each of his sons in whatever course of spiritual development they took. None of them minded Don's sudden conversion to Christianity back in '95, but his recent "rebirth" as he called it, had been troublesome. He'd suddenly turned evangelist, and seemed unable to leave them alone on his campaign to turn them all into believers. His brothers and Splinter (yes, he'd even tried to convert Splinter) had tried to tune it out, but Don didn't know when to stop...and he'd pushed Raph too far. As the family drifted apart, their movement set in motion by Raph and Don's fight--if you could call it that--Leo wondered what would happen if they managed to get Raph and Don together again.) 

Now, as Leo looked at the two, he realized with sadness that they were ignoring each other again. They just didn't want to see or speak to each other, even though Leo knew Raph had missed Don and looked forward to seeing him again. Apparently, some sins were unforgivable in Raph's eyes. Leo sighed. Well, they had a whole week to convince Raph and Don to "kiss and make up." _Let's hope we're successful._

***

It was after dinner when Leo, wiping dishes with Casey and Splinter, suddenly heard the yelling from the family room. "Uh-oh," he said. They had made the deadly mistake of leaving the two in a room alone together. Leo was first into the room, first to see the two of them standing facing each other, fists clenched at their sides. Raph's eyes were narrowed, and he was doing most of the shouting. Leo shoved them apart. 

"Whoa, whoa," he said. "What's going on here?" He glared at them. 

Raph pointed a quivering finger at Don. "Him! Can you believe," Raph roared. "That he was starting on me AGAIN!?" Leo looked very hard at the normally placid Donatello. But he was looking pretty POed this time around. 

"Your problem, Raph, is that you are way too sensitive!" Don yelled back. "It had nothing to do with you!" 

"Oh yeah? You know I HATE those damn songs!" 

"It's not my fault! I hate that immoral Prodigy trash you listen to! But I don't harp on it constantly!" 

"Oh, it's IMMORAL now, is it? Well excuse ME, o righteous one, cuz all us SINNERS aren't as PERFECT as you are!" 

"I never said I was perfect!" 

"Yeah, well ya sure act like it! With your BIBLE, and your HOLY MESSAGE FROM GOD, ya friggin' JESUS FREAK!!!!" 

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" 

Leo had heard enough. "STOP IT!" he screamed, as Splinter and Casey entered the room behind him. "That's QUITE enough out of both of you." 

"I'm gettin' outta here," snarled Raph. Leo grabbed his arm, but Raph jerked away and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him, and barely pausing to grab his jacket. Leo looked at Don. 

"A song," he said. "I was humming it, and he freaked out. That IDIOT." Don stormed into the kitchen. 

"Donatello!" Splinter said sharply. 

"Just leave me ALONE!" cried Don, and headed out the back door. 

"Dang," said Casey. "Sure glad I missed the first fight." Leo gave him a dirty look and sank into the couch, head in his hands. Great. Just when it was looking like a good Christmas was cropping up, those two had to spoil everyone's day. 

***

Donatello growled to himself as he entered the barn and stamped the snow off his boots. He had first renovated this old place as a sanctuary that first summer they spent here. A place where he could go to be alone, to work. Where he could think whatever he wanted, SING whatever he wanted, with no one there to tease him about his voice. Thought these days, it was more the content of his songs than his voice that was apt to get him in trouble. 

He was ashamed of losing his temper, and silently prayed for forgiveness. But it didn't make him feel much better. Living with such a definitely non-Christian bunch of people was a real strain, and he discussed it often with Greg, the pastor at the Lutheran church he had joined in New York. He was a good guy, and when he'd heard about Don's moving out to Northampton, had given Don his number and instructed him to call any time. Don had discussed his worries with Greg before his and Raph's big fight, and expressed his concerns for his family. Greg had warned him to lay off, but he hadn't listened until after the fight, and then it was too late. He had totally turned Raph off to Christianity, possibly forever. Greg said that a person disillusioned about Christianity was the hardest kind to guide to the church. And Raph was too wary now to even realize that Don had eased off. 

He really hadn't meant to hum the Christian pop song, but he often sang when he was alone around the farmhouse, and it was a habit. He hadn't even realized that he was doing it until Raph yelled at him. He sighed. So much for forgive and forget. He decided he needed to talk to Greg. Too late now, maybe tomorrow. He found the small bookcase he had been working on for Leo, and picked up his knife to finish the carving he had started on one side of it. Almost unconsciously, he began to sing softly to soothe his jangled nerves: "_Breathe on me, breathe o breath of God. Breathe on me, till my heart is new. Breathe on me, breathe o breath of life. Breathe on me, till I love like you do._" 

The song "Breathe" is copyright Newsboys.

* * *

# December 21, 2004

It was early in the morning when Raph first rose. He'd returned to the farmhouse when everyone was in bed, including Christ-boy, and he'd planned to be up and gone by the time everyone else was ready to get moving. But he found Splinter in the kitchen with a cup of tea in front of him, busy pouring a second. Splinter wordlessly pointed to the chair across from him. Raph opened his mouth to protest, but then sighed as he saw the hard look in Splinter's eyes. He knew better than to question Master Splinter when he was this determined. He sat obediently. 

"You are very troubled, my son. I had not seen you so angry in a long time," the rat said quietly. Raph didn't need to ask what incident Splinter was referring to. He shrugged. 

"Yeah, I guess." 

Splinter looked very hard at his son as he passed him the second cup of tea. Raph took a sip, and though his outward demeanor was calm, Splinter knew the signs he saw in Raphael's eyes, and they meant trouble. "Why do you let Donatello upset you so?" 

Raph had to think about it a moment. "He just won't get off my back!" he burst out. "I tell him to lay off, even you do, but he won't listen!" He was right. Splinter remembered when Donatello first brought his religion home with him. While his constant attempts to convert them grated on one's nerves, Splinter had been willing to let it pass, until he realized how deeply Raphael was disturbed about it. Then he ordered Donatello to stop, and for a while it seemed that he had. But he hadn't; he'd just gotten sneaky. First it was the unending supply of pamphlets being left everywhere in the den, then when Splinter made him stop that, Don managed to slip Bible quotes into almost every statement he made. That too was annoying, but Splinter left it, since Raphael seemed able to deal with the quotes. But then came more pamphlets...with Raph and Don's bitter vendetta being the terrible result. 

Splinter sighed and wondered if Donatello realized how much his actions were troubling Raphael. "Does that mean you have to lose your temper? As you have seen, that helps no one." 

"I thought, if he just had some time to chill out, see how stupid he was being, maybe he'd knock it off! And I've talked to him on the phone, I thought he'd loosened up! But he's just the same!" Raph cried. 

"I thought you were looking forward to seeing Donatello," Splinter said. 

"I wanted to see the OLD Donatello. But apparently the only thing I'm gonna get to see is the preaching, singing, Bible-banging JESUS FREAK Donatello." Raphael's words were bitter and lanced through Splinter. It sounded as if--but no, how could he hate Donatello? As if reading Splinter's thoughts, Raph spoke up, a little more calmly, "I don't hate Donny, master, I just hate what he's becoming, what that CHURCH is doing to him." _So,_ thought Splinter. _It is not Donatello he hates--it is Christianity itself._ "If he would just keep it to himself, it would be fine. I don't agree with Leo's Buddhist stuff, but I let it go because he knows how to keep his beak outta my business! But no, the church can't do that. They have to EVANGELIZE, and SPREAD THE WORD, and stick their noses in where they don't belong! And their attitude--they've even got Don acting that way." 

"What way?" asked Splinter, remaining calm in the face of Raph's building fury. 

"YOU know, like they're so much better than everyone else! He laid off you right away, cuz you just told him no and he buggered off! But he can't leave me alone; it's like I'm his special project, so he always has to be on my back." Raph clenched his fists and slammed one onto the table, slopping the tea over his cup's brim. "It's always Saint Donatello versus the Big Bad Sinner Raphael! And I am TIRED of it! I'm tired of Don getting all over my back with his fire and brimstone bullshit because I don't believe in their STUPID doctrine and follow all their STUPID rules!" 

Splinter sat in stunned silence. "Donatello has not damned anyone to hell," he said sternly. 

"Master! I can't believe you don't remember that! It was that one time we were talking, and he was preaching away as usual, and he started saying that everyone who didn't believe in Jesus went to hell!" Splinter winced. He did remember; in fact, that was the occasion when they'd all been so upset, and Raph had been so angry, that he had forbidden Donatello to speak of it again. He could understand Raphael's anger at the comment; it was not an easy to accept a declaration of damnation. But it wasn't easy to preach it, either. Splinter suddenly connected Don's statement with his incredible desire to convert them all to Christianity. The two ideas were obviously linked. But how could he make Raphael see that Donatello only dogged him because he loved him? 

"Raphael," he said slowly. "Donatello is not trying to annoy you. He seems to truly believe all the things he says." 

"So?" growled Raph. "That doesn't mean everyone else has to hear about them constantly." 

Splinter said, "If Donatello believes that those not of his religion will be punished..." Splinter was finding this unusually difficult to explain to Raphael. "He would not want you to be punished," he finished lamely. 

"You mean he's just trying to convert me because he loves me?" Raphael grasped with a suddenness that shocked Splinter. "Yeah, right, master." Splinter glared. "I mean, um, I find that rather hard to believe." 

"Why? You don't think Donatello hates you?" Splinter was startled. 

"Nooooo....I just--I dunno, it doesn't seem like the way you show your love for somebody is to shove your religion down their throat. I already said I don't believe all that cr--junk, so why can't he just leave me alone?" 

"Because he loves you." 

Raph rolled his eyes. "Master Splinter, if he really loved me, he would respect MY beliefs like I was trying to respect his before all this got started." Splinter had no answer for that; Raph was right. How could Donatello expect his brother to respect, even accept, his beliefs if he did not return that courtesy? 

"Tell him that, Raphael. You need to talk with Donatello, to work your problem out." 

"No way," Raphael said, standing up. "Not until he apologizes for being such a jerk." Raphael headed for the back door, and Splinter let him go. 

He sighed as the door banged shut behind Raph. Leonardo had agreed to talk to Donatello--Splinter fervently hoped that he would have better luck in reconciling the two brothers. 

***

Leo knocked quietly on the door before he slipped into Don's makeshift workshop. He had built a small room in the corner of the barn to store his stuff in: wood, carvings, paints, and all his tools for both carving and fixing things. Don had been trying to insulate and heat another portion of the barn; if he did that, he could move his laboratory and computers out here too. But as it was, the barn was too cold for expensive equipment to be stored in. Leo heard Don softly singing something. Christmas songs, it sounded like. Then he started something new: "He was born a pauper to a pawn, on a Christmas day, when the New York Times said God is dead, and the war's begun. Alvin Tostig has a son today...." 

Don jumped when Leo spoke. "That's not a Christmas song." 

"It counts," defended Don. "It happens on Christmas." 

"Does not." 

"Does too!" Don stuck his tongue out at Leo and they both laughed. Leo perched on the edge of the worktable to watch Don carefully carving details onto a life-sized deer. 

"We need to talk." Don looked at him. 

"About Raph?" 

"About you and Raph," Leo corrected. "It's not a case of Raph having the sole blame." Leo instantly regretted saying this, but still--they would get nowhere anyway if Don didn't at least accept that he was to blame too. 

"Maybe, maybe not. He's the one who's being a jerk, if you ask me." Apparently they weren't going to get anywhere. Leo sighed, but before he could speak, Don angrily broke out, "I didn't even do anything, and he just blew up! I'm so tired of his attitude!" 

Leo stared. _RAPH'S attitude?_ How could Don not realize that his own attitude was partially to blame for Raph's anger? "Not this time, but after what happened back in New York, I think Raph just closed his mind to the idea that you could quit badgering him." Don growled softly. "It may be hard for you to accept, Don, but you're wrong. You have to stop trying to--" 

"I'm NOT wrong!" exclaimed Don. "I'm RIGHT, okay, and I thought that I should at least try to make you see that--" 

Leo cut him off. "You THINK entirely too much! Look, Don, you want to share what you believe with us, and that's great. At first we just discussed this stuff, and that was okay, we all got to say what we thought, and no one was upset. But you've taken this too far! It's not open discussion anymore, it's YOU constantly forcing your ideas on us! The problem is in the word "make"; you can't MAKE us do or believe anything." 

Don was tuning him out. "I was just trying to show you that you were wrong, okay?" 

"It's not okay. I'll admit you've toned it down since we've been here, but you can't fight with Raph like that." 

"He started it! I didn't do anything! He never respects anything I say; he just ignores me like what I believe doesn't matter. He's got this "big brother" attitude like he can just discount anything I say as worthless. And if he's not ignoring me, he's putting down everything I believe in!" Don slammed his knife to the workbench surface. "He hurt my feelings, Leo, and I'm not just going to forget that! I tried to, last time, because I thought it was the way to make all this go away. But as soon as you get here, he looks for the first opportunity to do it again!" 

"Tell him that. He needs to know how you feel, or this will never be over. You can't," said Leo sharply. "Make a problem go away by ignoring it. As you've already seen." 

Don picked up the knife again. "No. I'm not going to talk about it until he apologizes for being such a jerk." 

Leo walked out of the barn shaking his head. What was he going to do with those two? 

***

Raph returned around lunchtime, considerably calmer than he had been. Donatello was making hot chocolate when he came in. At least they both stayed. But the two did not speak to each other. Leo looked up from the book he was reading and sighed. Splinter just sipped at his tea. 

The fight began when Raph said to Casey, "Hey, loser, what's for lunch?" 

"Nothin' fer you, midget," growled Casey. 

Raph grinned and picked up the old game in the middle of the alphabet. "Well bite me, nosepicker." Casey concluded the game by tackling Raph. Shadow leapt out of the way just as the two slammed into her chair. 

"Dad!" she yelled. 

"Casey!" April warned. 

"Raph!" Splinter and Leo said simultaneously, as the fighters overturned the table, spilling its contents all over the kitchen. Don rolled his eyes as Mike jumped into the fray to help his brother. With his help, Raph seized a struggling Casey, opened the door, and tossed him into the snow outside. 

"Ha ha! Cool off, you loser!" Raph sniggered. Then he and Mike were sent sprawling on top of Casey as Leo planted his hands against their shells. Leo roared with laughter. "Oh yeah?" said Raph, and flung a snowball that caught Leo in the side of the head. 

"Hey!" yelped Leo. 

Donatello appeared in the doorway to drop Leo's coat on him. "Splinter says if you're going to roll around in the snow, you should wear this." 

"But I'm not--whoa!" Don viciously shoved Leo off the porch into a snowdrift. They all collapsed into helpless laugher. Shadow bounded out the door, having somehow gotten into her coat, hat, and mittens. She went to give her father his coat, and Don tossed Mike and Raph their coats, without a word for either of them. 

"Now--" said Casey. "I still owe ya, midget!" He tackled Raph again, and the two wrestled enthusiastically, with Shadow clinging to Casey's back. Leo snuck back onto the porch, behind Don, and grabbed him around the shoulders. They fell off into the snow again. With great enthusiasm, they wrestled and pelted each other with snowballs until Raph was thoroughly coated with snowballs and Leo had succeeded in rubbing snow in Don's face. Then they all trouped back into the kitchen, where April and Splinter were still calmly sipping tea, without a table. The turtles laughed as they tried to get all the snow off each other, and finally peeled off their soaked clothes. Casey and Raph returned to the kitchen side by side, smirking at each other. Splinter silently pointed a finger at the huge mess of mayonnaise and hot chocolate on the floor by the table. Raph sighed and went for a sponge. Casey cackled, but April came over to put the mop in his hand. 

She grinned broadly. "You're helping, laughing boy." He grumbled, but bent to the task, and soon the floor was gleaming again. Splinter nodded approval and Raph made a beeline for the TV. 

***

The wrestling in the snow had been more fun than fight. The real fight began that evening after dinner, when all of them were relaxing in their rooms. Don was sitting in front of his computer, humming softly and gently tapping keys, when he was startled by what sounded like an explosion across the hall. With no small amount of irritation, he recognized the "music" as the work of Korn; one of the violent and profane bands that Raphael seemed to love so much, while Don hated them with equal passion. Raph complained about the church not ending violence in the world, but Don wondered how violence could possibly end when musicians and their fans reveled in it. 

Don also remembered their angry exchange about music the other night. _Raph's just blasting that music because he knows I hate it,_ Don couldn't resist thinking. But he quickly cut that train of thought off. _No....I shouldn't even think things like that. Don't be like him. Don't assume that everything he does is a deliberate attack on you._ Don took a deep breath, exhaled, and forced himself to remember that Raph ALWAYS blasted his music. Quelling his suspicions, he tried to concentrate on the words on the screen. But the thumping music and the all-too-audible stream of vulgar language coming from the stereo across the hall distracted him. Don massaged his temples and hoped April or Casey would come tell Raph to turn the music down. Surely they would worry that Shadow might hear it...she was only eleven. Or did they not care what kind of filth their daughter heard? 

Dang! He couldn't even think straight for all the thumping. _They're not your enemies!_ he scolded himself. _Don't think about them that way._ He sighed and stood up, trying to nerve himself to face Raph alone, without anyone nearby to help him if Raph tried to start something. _This is stupid._ Don inwardly snarled at his fear of Raph's anger and opened the door. The music boomed louder. Don rapped smartly on Raph's door, with its big "do not disturb" sign, and waited a moment before knocking again, harder. He waited and sighed when no answer came from within the room. Again he knocked, this time almost hurting his fist on the wood. Maybe next time he would kick it instead.... 

The door was thrown open. "What?" Raph demanded, shouting down the music. He tensed. Probably came to complain about my music.... 

"What're you doing?" Don asked with a weak smile, attempting to be friendly. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," Raph said irritably. "What do ya want?" 

Don winced at Raph's tone. "Um, I was working on my computer, and your music-" 

"What about my music?" Raph demanded, instantly on the defensive. "Too strong for you?" he drawled. 

Don bristled, insulted. "I just wanted to ask you to turn it down. It's too loud." 

"I like it loud." 

Don snapped, "Well not everyone in this house does! Most of us have this thing called common courtesy. You should try it sometime." 

"Yeah? Well you can shove it up your-" 

"Why don't you just lose the attitude, Raph? I didn't come here to bug you, I asked for something really simple and you're just being difficult." 

"Difficult," mocked Raph. "What are you, my mother? My room, my music, my LIFE, Don. Stay OUT of 'em." 

"Out of your life, huh? You're the one who couldn't stay out of my life, as I recall. I was just fine here until you had to come along," Donatello snapped back.. 

"I'm a part of this family. If you want to be away from me, that's fine. But I'm gonna spend Christmas here, with my family, and you can't stop me." 

"And I'm not a part of the family?" Don asked. 

"You're a member of the CHURCH, remember?" 

"That doesn't mean I'm not one of you anymore!" Don exclaimed. 

"But we're not Christians," Raph sneered. "You should stay away....We might corrupt you, and then you might not get into heaven." His tone was angry and mocking. 

"I don't deserve this, Raph," Don said, fighting to remain calm. "I didn't do anything to you." 

"No, you only harassed me, only put me down because of the way I want to live, only told me that I was going to die and go to hell because I don't believe in your stupid god." Don began to see what Raph's anger had been hiding: Raph's feelings were hurt, too. 

"Raph, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just-" Don stammered. 

"Well you DID. But you never thought about that, did you? You care more about what some nonexistent god feels than what your own brother feels. You wouldn't dare upset him, but it's okay to say what you want to me, because I'm not important. I'm not even a damn CHRISTIAN." 

"I-" 

"Well that's FINE, Don, because I don't need your sympathy, and I certainly don't need your help to get saved or whatever the hell you want to call it." Raph was practically screaming in Don's face. 

Don bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Raph, I didn't mean to hurt you. But I do think you need-" 

"Shut UP, you BASTARD!" Raph screamed, and with that he slammed his door in Don's face. The music got even louder. 

"Jerk!" snarled Don. He stormed back into his own room and slammed the door. He flopped face-down on the bed and pulled a pillow over his head. _Won't even let me apologize...that moron._ And Leo wondered why Don couldn't just go to Raph and say he was sorry! Like it was that easy. Don bitterly wondered how many times mister perfect Leo had really apologized for things he did to Raph. No way he was going to talk to that cretin Raph again any time soon. Don sighed and rolled over onto his back. _Some holiday._

* * *

# December 22, 2004

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly! Fa la la la la, la la la la!" 

Raph moaned and rolled out of bed, stumbling against the dresser and cursing under his breath before finally reaching the door and throwing it wide. _Who the hell is singing at 7 am?_ Raph wondered grouchily, glancing at the digital clock on the dresser. He paused and listened as the voice began again. 

"Tis the season to be jolly! Fa la la la la, la la la la!" 

Mikey. The voice was unmistakable now, bellowing up the stairs in a surprisingly tuneful way. 

"Follow me in merry-" 

"Mike!" Raph yelled. "Some of us are trying to SLEEP up here!" 

"Just a little mood music!" Mike shouted. _Mood music?_ Raph wondered. Then he sniffed the air and recognized the scent of baking cookies. Appealing as the odor was, Raph was not about to surrender to a 7 o'clock wake up call. 

"That's not a bad idea! Hey, Mike, do you know 'Shove a Bough of Holly Up Your Butt'?" Raph yelled back. 

"Know it? I wrote it!" 

"Can it, you two!" came a combined shout from Casey and April's room. 

"Just ignore it and go to BED, Raph!" Leo advised at the top of his lungs. "You're making more noise than he ever did." 

Raph slammed his door and buried himself under the covers, resigning himself to defeat as the concert began again. 

"Jingle bells! Jingle bells! Jingle all the way!" 

***

When Raph finally walked into the kitchen at lunch time, he was still only slightly cheerier for the extra hours of sleep. He grumbled a good morning to Leo, Mike, April, Casey, and Shadow. He found a can of soup and dumped it into a pot to heat on the stove, then flopped down at the table, across from Mike, who was reading the latest Alli Marty bestseller. Mike grinned mischievously at him and then stuck his face back in the book. Don was also there, but Raph studiously ignored him. _Just my luck. The bastard's always closest when I'm trying to avoid him._ He could've just left the room, but it was too late now. He was here, but he didn't have to talk to or acknowledge Don. 

Raph had just started eating his soup when Don set a book on the end of the table and sat down with his sandwich. Raph scanned the book, double-checked the title, and turned a glare on Don. The hardness of the gaze made the quiet turtle look up at Raph. 

"What?" Don asked. _Dammit, what's he mad about now?_

Raph snatched the book and held it out distastefully. "A Fourth Serving of Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul," he said. "How cute, Don." 

Don glanced at the book and at Raph's lunch and quickly comprehended. His face flushed red. "Don't be an idiot, Raph. My life doesn't hinge on your dietary preferences, believe it or not," he snapped, grabbing for the book. Raph let it drop, and the book struck the table hard, sloshing his soup onto the reading material. 

Don snatched the book up and tried to dry it with his napkin. "You have to be THE most disrespectful, ignorant person I have ever met." 

"Look who's talking, Mister Enlightened Christian," Raph growled back. 

The others were trying to ignore the fight, naively hoping that it might fizzle out before someone had to take the initiative and break the two brothers up. 

But of course it didn't. It never fizzled out between Raph and Don, and soon they were both trying to shout each other down. It was Leo who finally jumped up and shoved the pair apart. 

"Why do you always do this?" he demanded angrily. "You're always trying to ruin things, Raph." 

"Me!" Raph snarled. Distracted from his original target, he turned his angry glare on Leo. "And Donatello is perfect, right? You always blame me for everything, Leo. Maybe it's time to get over whatever little problem you're having and deal with the fact that I'm not responsible for the universe as a whole!" 

"He's blaming you because I didn't do anything!" said Don. "It's not my fault you lose your temper all the time. I didn't do anything to you, and you decided to grab my book and act like a jerk." 

"It's not my fault you always try to sell me your stupid religion! I am so sick of all your Christian crap-" 

"It is NOT CRAP!" Don shouted back. "Maybe you're just jealous because I actually believe in something, while you spend all your time being angry and feeling sorry for yourself because your life sucks!" 

"Damn you Donatello, stop being so SUPERIOR all the time! Just because you're Christian doesn't mean you can rub my beak in it! If you're supposed to be on a direct line to heaven, why don't you send up a message for me: you can tell that fag Jesus to shove a goddamn Bible up his ASS!" 

Raph didn't see Don's fist until after it had already slammed into his jaw and withdrawn. Raph stumbled back, eyes wide. Everyone in the kitchen was staring, and even Mike had finally lowered his book. They gaped at Don, who stood there with his fists clenched, waiting defiantly for Raph to scream at him or try to return a blow. But Raph didn't. His hand went to his jaw, then dropped and hung slackly at his side, as if unsure what to do with itself. Leo felt cold suddenly. Raph may or may not have deserved that. But Don...Leo and Raph had come to blows often enough, and even Mike had gotten physical in a fight once or twice. But Don had never struck one of his brothers in anger. 

In his eyes, they saw the rage, the insurmountable fury that so often overcame Raph. But Don wasn't the angry young man, constantly ready to take on all comers; he was the quiet, brainy one, who never invited or encouraged conflict. But even as his brothers saw and recognized that angry fire, Don realized with a shock what he had wrought, and swiftly beat the flames back into the inner recesses they had emerged from. The kitchen's occupants blinked, and when they looked again, the anger was gone and Don was himself, standing with mute remorse and fear; as if a demon possessing his body had just been exorcised, and he had awakened without knowledge of how or why he had acted. 

Don looked as sick as he felt. _Oh God, my God, please forgive me...what have I done?_ He hadn't planned to hit Raph, hadn't wanted to, but in that one moment, he just-lost it. Before any of his friends could question him, he whirled and made his way to the kitchen door, headed up the hallway and out the front door. But he was stopped in the doorway by Master Splinter, who had stood unnoticed in the silence following Don's attack. Splinter gently turned Don back around and guided him into a chair. Don sank down weakly and buried his face in his hands. 

"This cannot continue," Splinter said quietly. "It must end before someone is seriously hurt." He realized immediately that he had spoken incorrectly. Raphael and Donatello were already seriously hurt, turned away from each other by anger and wounded feelings. "Realize, my sons, that you are not just hurting each other, which is bad enough. You are hurting the rest of us, and that is inexcusable. If we wish to remain together as a family during this holiday season, you must agree to put your differences aside. 

"I know this is not easy to do. But you must cease provoking each other. You must resist becoming angry when you are provoked." Splinter frowned solemnly. "You are ruining Christmas for this entire family, and that is unfair." 

Don and Raph avoided Splinter's eyes; Raph gazed at some distant speck of airborne dust, and Don stared at the floor. 

"You must promise that you will try to do this. If not for each other, than for the rest of us." Don and Raph nodded, slowly. Splinter wasn't threatening them with punishment if they didn't agree to promise, but Splinter didn't need threats. The tone of disappointment and reproach in his voice was enough to shame them and make them want to do anything to change it to approval-even making this promise. 

"I-I promise," Don told the floor. 

"Promise," Raph mumbled. 

"Please, my sons," Splinter said evenly. He didn't finish his plea, but Donatello and Raphael heard it anyway. _Please do not disappoint me._

***

The others were shocked at how easily Don and Raph seemed to drop their enmity. They hadn't really dropped it, of course, they had just buried it. But they managed to have conversations that stayed off the taboo subject of religion, and everyone was breathing easier. 

Leo was particularly surprised at the excellence of Splinter's strategy. Their respect for him and the remorse he made them feel for their actions made them able to tolerate each other. Between lunch and dinner, there were a few close calls. But each time one of the two said something rude, the other managed to remember his promise and keep his anger in check. 

The fighting was over. For now. 

***

Mike hummed as he measured peanut butter into his second batch of cookies. 

"Hey," Raph said, coming into the kitchen. "What smells so good?" He snagged three of the cookies from the plate and took a huge bite. "Mmmm, peanut butter." Mike glared, and went to the oven. He removed another tray of cookies and set it on a cooling rack on the counter, turning just in time to slap Raph's hand away from the rack. 

"Raph! There won't be any left for Christmas!" Hearing his sensei entering the kitchen, he said, "Master Splinter! Tell Raphael to stop scarfing my cookies!" He whirled to catch Splinter briskly knocking the crumbs from his fingers. 

"Mmf wofrgh Mmiskllanlo," the rat said sheepishly. Mike yelped in rage. 

"That's IT! Out! Everybody out! Including you!" he yelled at Leo and April, who were standing in the doorway, watching and trying to muffle their giggles as Mike worked himself into a rage. 

"Geez, Mike, don't burst a vein," suggested Leo. 

"Yeah, mellow out, Mike." Raph crammed another cookie into his mouth as Mike took a swing at him with a spatula. He sprinted for he door, saying around the food, "Goin' out, see ya later." 

Raph chuckled wickedly as he wandered away from the house. He loved riling Mike up; and his cookies were fabulous! He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to wander further than usual tonight. The moon was so bright that he didn't need a flashlight, and the snow was falling very lightly; it was beautiful. Walking through the snow, Raph found himself aiming toward the highway. Why? _Who cares,_ he thought, and went on. Walking the small embankment directly beside the road, Raph reflected, _C'mon, Raph, should you be walking this close to a road, even at night?_ A pause. _Noooo....._ He could almost hear Leo scolding him now. "Raph, you know better than that. You coulda been seen! How could you endanger us all like that?" he mimicked in a whiny voice. _And on and on. What a dork._

A car suddenly was shooting down his stretch of highway. _It's stopping!_ Hoping he hadn't been spotted, Raph threw himself down the embankment into a ditch. Laying silently in the ditch, he heard crunching footsteps. Unable to resist a peek, he peered over the small hill. A man, heavily muffled, carried a small bundle over to the side of the road and put it down. Raph was puzzled, until he saw the bundle moving. His blood boiled. _How could anyone be so cruel?_ He just barely kept himself from rushing out of hiding. He was dying to punch this guy out for abandoning small animals (probably cats or dogs) on the roadside to die. He managed to restrain himself until the guy had climbed back into his car and driven away. 

He almost cried when he saw it: two small pups, lying cold and stiff on the now soaked blanket, and a third whimpering as it crawled helplessly about. Raph studied it. It was a mutt with shaggy black fur and pointed ears. He could easily see why the dogs had been abandoned: they were small, but their paws were enormous! If they had lived, they would have grown far too large to cope with. Raph snarled in rage, wishing the man was standing right there with him. He felt liking tearing his bastard throat out. He scooped up the one living dog, a little male which promptly sank his tiny teeth into Raph's gloved hand. 

"Spunky little kid, ain't ya?" he asked it. Poor thing. He would probably live, with the right care. But he was pretty young and it would be hard to- _What am I thinking? What would the guys say if I come home with a puppy?_ Raph thought. _I know exactly what they'd say. They'd say I was going soft! Tough-guy Raphael and a puppy? Oh, please._ But there was no way he could leave the small puppy here to freeze to death. Raph wished he could bury the other two, but the ground was too hard and he would need a shovel. He turned slowly, pulled off his scarf. It had been a gift from Shadow last year, and was more than big enough to wrap the puppy up in. Raph headed back to the house. 

***

He paused just before he reached the back steps, putting the puppy in his jacket and zipping it up partway. He slipped into the kitchen, relieved to see that Mike had finished his baking. Raph looked at the clock and realized with his surprise that his walk had taken nearly two hours! He opened the fridge. 

"Raph?" Mike yelled from the living room. 

"Yeah?" Raph's heart skipped a beat. Was he getting up? 

"Touch the cookies and die." 

"Believe it," supplied Leo, walking past the kitchen door and rubbing his arm. "Cooking's not the only thing he can do with a spatula." Raph laughed at his rueful grin. As soon as Leo had settled down in front of "It's a Wonderful Life," Raph grabbed a half-empty carton of milk, poured some into a saucepan, and located an eyedropper in the first aid kit. _How do I know all this stuff? Comes of reading too many sappy books about dying animals. Bah! Gotta remember to stay outta Leo's bookcase._ He waited anxiously while the milk heated, glancing toward the door and dreading that someone might come in and ask what he was doing. Finally, he judged the milk was warm enough, poured it into a plastic bowl, and took off up the back stairs as fast as he was able without slopping. 

In his room, with the door safely locked, Raph got the puppy out. He's so cold! Jumping up, he raced back downstairs for a blanket, then down again for a water bottle and hot water. Don wandered in for a bag of chips and glanced at him strangely. 

"Having a baby, Raph?" 

"Haha. Wise ass," grumbled Raph uneasily. Thankfully the water was done and he filled the bottle and returned to his room. Don shook his head as he returned to his brothers and handed the chips to Mike. 

"What's with Raph? He's sure acting weird." 

Mike's eyes didn't move from the screen. "Raph's always acting weird." Mike shoved a handful of chips in his mouth. Don sighed and sat down. "Shh, this is the best part." 

Raph located an old box he hadn't used when wrapping presents, wrapped up the water bottle in one of Casey's old, ripped shirts, and placed it in the box with the blanket. Then he held the puppy in his arms, carefully cradling him as he filled the eyedropper with milk and worked it into the puppy's mouth. He chuckled softly. _What would Casey say if he could see me now? Probably drop his teeth. Huh. I AM getting soft in my old age._ Finally, he couldn't get the puppy to take any more milk. Setting aside the bowl, he held the puppy to his chest, feeling the tiny heart beating rapidly. 

"Damn, you're cute," he said with a sigh. "What am I gonna call you?" He studied the puppy's small body. "Rover? King? Duke? Blackie?" The puppy looked up at him and yawned. Raph chuckled. "No, huh?" He zeroed in on the large paws and inspiration struck. "How about Taiwam?" Since he'd met the X-men a while back, Jubilee had been struggling to learn Shi'ar from Professor Xavier. Raph, hanging around during her lessons, had managed to pick some of it up. 'Taiwam' meant, roughly translated, 'huge.' He grinned as the puppy licked his hand and drifted off to sleep. "Taiwam, then." 

There was a knock on the door. "Raph?" Don called. "Casey's making us watch 'Terminator 2' now. Wanna watch?" Raph's eyes were glued to the sleeping puppy as he laid it in the box and covered it over with the blanket. 

"No thanks." Don frowned as he walked away. Raph never missed an opportunity to watch the Terminator. What was up? 

* * *

# December 23, 2004

The next morning, Raph didn't appear at breakfast until ten. Don was already off in the barn, April and Shadow were reading in the living room, Leo and Casey were attempting to fix the blender, and Mike was eating a late breakfast of cold pizza, as Klunk enviously looked on. "Hey, bro," he said with a grin. "Up a little late?" Raph was usually the first one up, and he had never appeared this late or this exhausted. 

"Shaddup," he grumbled, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had been up at one, three, and seven to reheat milk for the puppy, and he'd spent most of the rest of the night cuddling and comforting him as he whimpered. _Saving puppies,_ he decided, _is not as easy as I thought. I wonder how many nights I'll have to do this before he can feed himself?_ He decided to get an alarm clock; he'd read something about ticking clocks reminding puppies of their mother. Maybe that would mean both of them could get more sleep..... 

"-we can do an exercise run later. Hey, Raph...Earth to Raphael..." Raph blinked. 

"Huh?" 

Mike snickered. "I've been talking to you for the last five minutes! I think you need to go back to bed, bro." 

"Maybe I will," said Raph, "If you guys don't get off my back!" They all laughed at him. 

"Yeah, and you guys say I'm old," said Casey. "Yer turnin' into an old woman, man. Sleepin' late, don't wanna exercise...." Raph grunted and poured more milk into the saucepan. Casey was surprised. He'd expected Raph to knock his head off, or at least say something snide. He exchanged a worried look with Leo. "Uh-Raph." 

"Wha?" Raph asked sleepily. 

"Somethin' up?" 

"Nah, man. Just leave me alone, huh?" Raph took his milk upstairs with his cup of coffee. Mike shook his head. 

"Is he shooting up or hung over?" 

"Raph is a lot weirder than this when he's drunk," Leo put in. 

"Not weirder, just meaner," corrected Casey. 

"You ought to know!" April called from the living room. "You're the one at dinner who was like, 'Hey, where do you keep the beer?'" The turtles laughed with April. 

Casey growled. "Just wait, punks, you'll be laughing outta the other side of yer green faces when I rip yer tongues out." 

"Let's see you try!" exclaimed Mike. 

"Yeah?" Casey dove for Mike, toppling the chair. 

"Oof, watch it, you big jerk!" cried Mike as Casey and the chair landed on top of him. With a cry of protest, the cat skittered out of the way. He grumpily settled down in a corner and complained about the disturbance to no one in particular. 

"Ha ha! Now I've got you!" Casey energetically wrestled with the turtle. Finally, Mike shoved him off with a kick to the stomach and pinned him. 

"One, two, three!" Leo counted, playing referee. "You're out, Casey!" 

"Yeah, that was rigged," Casey grumbled as Mike helped him up. "What's up, Don?" The other turtle had just entered the kitchen. 

"Time for breakfast." He grabbed a slice of Mike's pizza. 

"Hey!" Mike cried. "Just because you have to spend all morning in that stupid workroom-" 

Don cackled. "Good pizza." He poured coffee into his mug. "Anyone seen Raph yet?" 

"Yeah, he was here just a couple minutes ago," said Leo. 

Mike grinned. "Ready for his "Morning of the Living Dead" audition." 

Don snorted. "We going for the Christmas tree?" he asked. 

"Yup," said April, entering the room. "In fact, I meant to ask Raph when he wanted to go." Traditionally, it was Raph and April and Shadow who went for the tree, but this year they'd decided to make an outing of it and have everyone go. Even Casey had agreed, prompted by Raph. 

"I'll ask," announced Mike, and dashed up the stairs. A minute later, he returned slowly, looking crestfallen. "He said he's not going," Mike said in a disappointed tone of voice. 

"What!" exclaimed Casey. "He was the one who insisted that everybody had to come!" 

Leo frowned. "We finally got him to stop acting like such a jerk at Christmas, and now all he wants to do is stay in his room!" 

"You think he's still disappointed that we aren't spending Christmas in the city?" asked April. 

Don shook his head. "Nah. If he were, why would he start being all strange now? He's been fine all week." _As fine as that jerk can get, anyway,_ he added to himself. 

"It started just after his walk last night," Leo pointed out. "Maybe something happened." 

"I saw his tracks going out toward the highway." They all froze and looked at Don. 

"What the hell was he doing by the highway?" Leo's voice was dangerously edged. 

"Maybe he was seen," said Mike in a small voice. The possibility scared all of them. 

"I'll go talk to him," said Leo with a sigh. They all waited while Leo rose and went up to Raph's room. He knocked on the door. 

"What?" Raph called. Leo tried the door. Locked. 

"We need to talk." 

"I'm listening." Leo sighed again. _Cripes, he's annoying! Why can't he just talk to me face to face?_

"Were you out by the highway last night?" His voice was flat. 

"Um." Raph was surprised. _How does he know?_ Raph grimaced as Leo answered his unspoken question. 

"Don saw your tracks when he went out to the barn this morning. What's wrong with you? Don't you realize what danger you were putting us all in?" Leo was practically ranting. _Can I read him or what?_ thought Raph in amusement. But he was still shocked by Leo's next question. "Did someone see you?" His voice was accusatory. 

"No!" Raph cried. "Don't you think I would have told you if I had been seen?" 

"I don't know. You don't tell us much of anything." Raph tried not to get angry. _He doesn't believe me!_

"You don't believe me!" Raph accused. 

"No, I don't Raph. Something's up, you can't deny it. You're acting really strangely, and it started after your walk last night." Leo tried to stay calm, but his voice was rising in anger. _Why can't he just admit it?_

"Get out of here," Raph said flatly. "Get _out_!" Slowly, deliberately, Leo turned and went back to the living room, where the others waited in tense silence. They'd heard Raph yelling and been prepared for a really extreme argument. So they were surprised when Leo appeared, face livid, to shake his head. 

"Can't get anything out of him. God, I wish Splinter was here. He would handle this." 

"Speaking of which, where is he? D'ya think he'll want to come help with the tree?" asked Mike. 

"If you'd gotten up at a decent hour, you'd know," said Leo. 

"Hey, I need my sleep!" Mike protested. 

"He took the day off, said he'd be back tomorrow morning," explained Don. 

"Oh." 

"Guess it's a rat thing," said Casey. "Needed some off time from you four." Mike scoffed loudly. 

"More like from you!" Mike shook his head. "Humans. Huh." 

"They're a lot easier to deal with than Mr. Attitude, at any rate," Leo said under his breath. 

April put her hand on his arm. "C'mon, Leo, forget about it. Let's just have fun getting the tree." Leo shook his head. 

"I should stay here and keep an eye on him." 

"No," said Mike. "Don't you think you've pissed him off enough?" 

"That's the weird thing," said Leo. "He didn't even get mad at me. Just ordered me out." He frowned. 

"Uh, Leo, he was screaming at ya. That doesn't qualify as "getting mad"?" Casey asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Coming from Raph, that's more like mild annoyance," said Don with a snort. "I've seen him mad, believe me." 

Shadow tugged Leo's arm, breaking the tension generated by Don's still evident (though supressed) anger at Raph. "Come on, Uncle Leo, I want to get a tree!" Mike tousled her hair. 

"Right away, princess. Let's get your coat on." She ran for her jacket and mittens. The other turtles bundled up, and April glared at Leo until he, too, picked up his jacket. 

"Fine. But if something happens, remember that it's not my fault." 

"Fine," said Mike. "Let's go." 

Raph listened carefully to hear them leaving, then watched him out his window until they disappeared into the woods. With a sigh of relief, Raphael carried the puppy down to the living room and flicked on the television. Klunk was reluctant to share his couch at first, but when he spotted Taiwam, he hissed and scooted away to sulk in Mike's room. Raph popped in "Terminator 2"; it was too bad he hadn't watched it with the guys last night, but he'd wanted to stay with Taiwam. He stroked the tiny dog as he watched the movie. 

He was wakened by voices on the porch. Crap! The movie was long over, Taiwam asleep in his arms. He must've dozed off hours ago! The guys would be back with the tree. He silently scaled the stairs in a few bounds and slammed the door to his room behind him as his friends entered downstairs. 

They laughed as Mike and Don attempted to stand the tree upright in the tree stand April was setting up in the living room. Shadow jumped around happily, shrieking, "Christmas is coming!" Casey and Leo tried to help Mike and Don. Finally, Leo gave a huge shove and the tree was in the stand. The turtles held it securely as April knelt and screwed the clamp tight. Casey brought in water for the tree. 

April chuckled. "Now all we have to do is find all the old decorations." Mike and Leo's faces fell as they remembered the cluttered attic where all the boxes of decorations were kept amidst years of accumulated junk. 

Don grinned. "Don't worry, it's a little cleaner than last time. I did some work on it in anticipation for the search." 

"You're a life-saver, man," said Casey. 

"Hey look," said Mike, pointing to the fuzzy TV and the now half-empty bowl of m&ms. "Looks like the Raphster was out and about." Leo grew solemn again. For a while, he had forgotten about Raph. He went over and flicked off the television. Mike removed the tape. 

"Huh. Too good to watch TV with us, I guess." He flashed the tape at them. 

"Curiouser and curiouser," quipped Don. 

April just shrugged. "Whatever his problem is, I'm sure he'll be fine soon. You guys worry to much." 

"Can't help it," said Mike. "He's our brother." 

"I know," said April, "But he just needs some space sometimes. It's not like Raph being solitary is anything new." 

"I know," said Leo slowly. "But I just hoped maybe this year-" He stopped and shook his head. "I'll see if he wants to help us look for the boxes." 

"No, I will," said Mike. "I'm the only one who hasn't tried to pull him out yet. Maybe he'll listen to me." 

Raph almost jumped out of his shell when Mike softly knocked and opened the door. _Damn! I forgot to lock the door. Don't go around, Mike, stay there._ He willed Mike not to go around the bed and see the box where the small puppy slept. 

"Raph," Mike said quietly. He didn't move. Maybe Mike would go away if he stayed really still. Mike closed the door behind him. 

"Sleeping," he said in wonder. "He's in there sleeping." Raph never slept at midday. Not even when he was little and Splinter tried to make the four of them take naps before afternoon exercises. Raph had always wriggled and whispered, and never once had he actually slept. Mike suddenly wondered, "Where's Klunk? It's lunchtime, he usually comes in begging for food about now." Klunk NEVER missed a meal if he could help it. _Like Mike,_ Leo thought idly. 

"Dunno," said Leo. Mike went upstairs, and soon returned with a dissatisfied Klunk held in his arms. 

"Found 'im hiding under my bed," proclaimed Mike. 

"Well, let's have lunch, and then get started," said Don. The others agreed, so they all trooped out to the kitchen. Don made half a dozen chicken sandwiches with barbecue sauce. Shadow just made a gagging noise and fixed herself tuna salad. "Think Raph's hungry?" asked Don. 

Leo shrugged. "If he is, he'll come down." 

Mike offered Klunk a small piece of chicken, but the cat refused, pacing nervously up and down the room. Mike frowned. "That's weird. Klunk never refuses chicken." 

"Maybe he's not hungry," said Don. 

"Not likely," snorted April. "That cat's always hungry." 

Mike crouched next to the cat and scratched behind his ears. "'Sup, Klunk? What's spookin' ya, boy?" The cat didn't respond. 

Mike grunted. Something weird was going on, he knew. He only wished he knew what it was. 

***

Mike was chopping vegetables for beef stew when Raph appeared, looking quite a bit more awake than he had that morning. "Ah, sleeping beauty awakes," Mike joked. Raph whacked him in the arm. _Yup, he's back to normal all right,_ Mike thought with satisfaction. 

"Can I help?" Raph snatched the knife and brandished it menacingly. _Or not._

"Sure. Chop the onions." 

"Rahhhh!" Raph attacked the onions with the knife, wildly slashing at them. Mike rolled his eyes. 

"Don't be a dork," snorted Mike. "Here, I'll show you." Raph actually stood still long enough to watch Mike show him how to chop efficiently, with the tip of the knife never leaving the cutting board. Then he went back to his old method with tremendous zeal. Mike shook his head and returned to the carrots. 

The others were pleasantly surprised to find Raph attacking the bread as they came into the kitchen for dinner. They didn't mention his earlier behavior, and after he socked Casey for making fun of his crooked bread slices, no one mentioned that either. Dinner passed pleasantly with conversation carefully avoiding the subject of Raphael's journey to the highway. And Raph was perfectly normal (for him), except for one half-hour trip up to his room that no one bothered to ask about and he didn't explain. Casey, Raph, and Mike sparred (using wooden practice swords) with Leo, Don, and April for the dishes, and to their surprise, Casey and friends lost. With some good-natured grumbling, they scrubbed the pots out as their compatriots snickered at them. 

Then they gathered in the living room to pull long strings of lights our of the boxes Don and Casey had salvaged from the attic. April put on one of Mike's Christmas CDs, and they all began to work on the tree. Mike made popcorn so that they could all stab themselves trying to string it. Then they did the tinsel and ornaments, Casey lifting Shadow to reach the highest branches, and the three humans barely holding back their giggles as the shortish turtles strained to reach the top on their own. Casey earned himself another punch in the shoulder for teasing Raph about his height, and when he made a remark about turtles being midgets, they all tackled him. It took them nearly three hours to trim the tree, and another ten minutes for Shadow, perched precariously on Mike's shoulders, to put the angel on top. 

Mike disappeared as they all sat down to relax, and returned ten minutes later with a tray loaded with mugs of hot chocolate and a heaping plate of his precious peanut butter cookies, Hello Dollies, and cutouts. Raph grabbed a Hello Dolly and went to the kitchen, calling "Be back in a minute, guys." It was more like twenty, but again they didn't mention it when he returned. But they were all dying to know what exactly he was doing up there. 

They didn't have another occasion to think about it, because Raph didn't leave again. They stayed up till midnight, Casey carrying Shadow up to bed at ten o' clock, getting sugar-loaded and talking, gazing at the beautiful tree, which Raph agreed was a very good choice. Leo was happy, too, determining to forget about earlier incidents. _Maybe Raph is going to make this a good Christmas after all._ In fact, the only unusual incident was that when Mike handed Klunk to Raph, the cat had dug his claws into Mike's arm and refused to have anything to do with Raph. Everyone chalked it up to "a cat thing," but Mike was sure that something was amiss for Klunk to act so strangely. Finally, they were all yawning too much for conversation to be possible. 

"Time for bed," Raph announced, standing up. "Oh, and while I'm thinking of it, anyone have an alarm clock?" 

Mike giggled. "Going to get up before ten tomorrow, Raph?" 

"Maybe." Raph grinned amiably. 

"I think there's one in my closet, Raph. Let me see." April went off to check, and soon returned, triumphant, with the small black clock in hand. 

"Thanks," said Raph. He headed off to his room, thinking happily, _That should make Taiwam happy. Maybe the little bugger will actually let me sleep tonight._

* * *

# December 24, 2004, Christmas Eve

Raph was up before ten the next morning. Way before ten. In fact, when Casey staggered into the kitchen at six o'clock, Raph was already there, brewing coffee and scrambling eggs with chunks of ham and cheddar. He grinned. "Morning, Case, up in time for sunrise, I see." 

"Mmrrrff," Casey mumbled, and poured the coffee. _Raph,_ he reflected, _is unusually chipper this morning._ "What's up with you, man? Why the sudden shift of moods?" 

Raph shrugged. "Christmas, man. Go with the flow." Casey snorted. _Since when does Raph observe Christmas with a show of Christmas spirit?_ Oh, well. _Don't rock the boat,_ Casey told himself. _What's wrong with Raph being friendly for a change?_

Raph hummed "Jingle Bells" and served out Casey with a portion of eggs, tossing a bagel onto the plate as well. He had surprised himself that morning when he woke up with the realization that Taiwam hadn't made a sound since the night before. _He's dead!_ was Raph's first thought, and he quickly rolled out of bed to verify the sinking feeling in his gut. To his surprise, the puppy was still very much alive, and woke as he leaned over it. As Raph went for the milk, then fed Taiwam with it, he reflected that he had really come to love the little guy. "Yer growin' on me, pal," he'd told the puppy. "Don't watch out, I'll be in love with ya next." _Least I know he can sleep through the night,_ Raph thought. _'Course, it was only six hours, but it's a start._

"Hey," Casey said. "You feel up to that exercise run this morning? I'm gettin' out of practice." 

"And out of shape," Raph commented wryly. "Yer gettin' a gut, Casemeister." 

"Say what? Well piss off!!!" Raph snickered as Casey shook his head. "My own best friend turned against me." 

"Would that be the beer or the cookies?" Raph asked innocently. He dodged Casey's punch. 

"That's it! I challenge you to a duel!" 

"You're on. Right after I finish dueling these eggs." Raph wolfed into his breakfast. _Taiwam will be okay for a couple hours. I need to get out and work the kinks out. Turn into an old fart sittin' around on my butt._ He looked up from his plate when he realized Master Splinter was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Welcome back, Master," he said politely. "Would you like something?" 

"Tea would be fine, Raphael," Splinter said graciously. Raph jumped up to make it. Splinter set his walking stick and satchel on the floor and seated himself at the table, smiling at Casey. "So, Casey Jones, did my sons behave themselves?" Raph snorted loudly. 

"Nah, regular bunch of terrors. Won't catch me baby-sitting for 'em again." Raph passed by Casey to hand a cup of tea to Splinter, using the opportunity to smack Casey in the head. 

"Watch yer mouth, or you'll be wolf bait." He cackled. "Chop ya up and leave ya out in th' snow for th' critters!" 

"Good luck!" Casey exclaimed. "How 'bout that duel, huh?" In response, Raph dashed out of the room, returned moments later with his sais, and flew out the door. Casey cackled as he slammed the door shut. "Now I can finish breakfast in peace." Leo sauntered in, yawning, saw Splinter, and managed a respectful, but sleepy, bow. 

"Welcome back, Master," he said. "How was your journey?" 

"Peaceful," the rat said. "And somewhat enlightening. How did you fare without me to keep things under control?" His whiskers twitched in amusement. Leo smiled. 

"All right. Raphael was acting strangely, but I think he's over it." Leo quickly ran through the details of the previous day. 

"Yeah, right," said Casey. "There's more than one way to be whacked out, Leo. And Raph's still way off the deep end. He's so cheerful you wouldn't believe it was him. Coulda sworn it was Mike; hummin' Christmas songs, up early to make breakfast, goin' on about Christmas spirit....Weird, just weird." 

Leo frowned. "You're right--that doesn't sound like him at all." 

"My son, you worry too much," Splinter sighed. "You were concerned that Raphael was too solitary and reserved. Now you worry because he is being friendly. Is that not what you wanted?" 

"Yes, I suppose it is silly, Master Splinter," said Leo thoughtfully. "But don't his mood swings worry you? I mean, usually when one of us starts acting strangely it means trouble. I assume that this time won't be any different." 

"Assume?" the rat frowned at Leonardo. "You assume too much, I think. Why must everything have an inner truth that is sinister? For once, enjoy the luxury of taking something at face value. As ninja, we so rarely have the chance to stave off intrigue and look at the painfully obvious." 

"And what's the painfully obvious in this case?" interjected Casey. 

"Something has happened to Raphael," Splinter said simply. "Not something bad, I think. He does not wish to tell you about it, which explains his secrecy. But now, he is happy. That is all." Leo thought about it. What his sensei said made sense. But they had such rare occasion to see Raphael happy....Splinter seemed to read his thoughts. "Enjoy it, my son," the rat said, gently touching Leo's shoulder. "It is Christmas. Cherish the opportunity to see a new side of your brother." 

"Yaaaaahhhhh," said Casey with a yawn. "All this mental stuff. I'm gonna take Raph up on that exercise." He went for his golf bag, then took off out the door, howling, "Fee fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a GREEN MIDGET!!" Leo sniggered as Casey's howls of derisive laughter trailed off into the distance. "Better hide, Raphael! I'm coming for youuuuuuuuu!" Splinter just smiled, gathered up his things, and took them--and his tea--upstairs to get some well-deserved rest. 

***

Mike hummed as he set his presents under the tree. He had gotten up early so he would be the first one to have the loot spread out under the tree, but to his surprise, he was actually fourth up. Leo, lingering over toasted bagels and orange juice, had filled him in: Splinter was upstairs resting after his journey home, and Raph and Casey had been and gone. Sitting on the couch watching the news, he absently picked the blue m&ms out of the candy dish. He wished the others would get up; he wanted to start the all-day Christmas movie marathon they had planned. Raph and Casey wouldn't want to watch, they never did. But then again, with what Leo had told him about Raph's behavior today, could Mike really take that for granted? 

He ceased contemplating when Don and April entered the room. "Ready," Don said cheerfully. He was a morning person, darn him. Mike was definitely not. He was running on pure Christmas cheer. April rolled her eyes and flopped onto an armchair. Leo slouched onto some couch cushions on the floor, and Shadow wandered in, bagel in hand. "Darn!" said Don. "Raph hid the remote again." Hide-the-remote was an ongoing game for them--Raph did this every time he was up before they were. Mike grinned and popped in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." He hoped Raph would be back before it was over; he would definitely get the joke. Mike cackled wickedly and settled back to watch the movie. 

A couple hours--and a LOT of blue m&ms--later, Mike announced a brief intermission. As Leo made a beeline for the bathroom-- _Heh. Too much oj._--Don went upstairs. _Good thing Raph is so predictable,_ Don thought. The remote was usually somewhere in Raph's room, so Don pushed the door open and stepped inside. What he saw next made him yelp with surprise. 

***

Leo heard Don's surprised cry. _Great,_ he thought. _Raph's left some cute trap for Don to fall into. Back to his old tricks. Maybe the whole Christmas spirit bit was a sham?_ "Find the remote?" he asked as Don reentered. "Or-" He stared. In Don's arms was a small bundle of black fur. They all gaped. Klunk hissed and crouched in the corner of the room. 

"This, actually," Don said softly. "It's a puppy." They were all awed for a moment. 

"Ut-oh," came the voice from the door. They saw Raph standing there, looking highly embarrassed. _Great timing, Raph,_ he scolded himself. 

"Raph?" asked April. 

"Um..." Raph couldn't think of anything to say. 

"A puppy?" Leo asked. Raph shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. _One mystery solved,_ Leo thought smugly. No wonder Raph had been so secretive! He'd been hiding a puppy! 

Mike suddenly collapsed into giggles. "Hehe! Raph--and a puppy! Oh, this is too, too much! Wait till I tell Casey!" 

"Tell me what?" Casey followed Raph closely. 

"Raph's been hiding a puppy!" snickered Mike. Casey gaped. 

"Say it ain't so, man!" Casey's eyes narrowed. "You goin' soft on me?" 

"I'd hardly talk. Yer always fawning all over Shadow..." 

"Well--that's different! Shadow's my little girl." 

Shadow interrupted, hands on hips. "Little girl, huh? I'm eleven years old, I'll have you know." Casey gave her a small hug. 

"Ah, you're my princess, Shadow." Meanwhile, Mike was trying to bring his giggles under control, and Leo was now cuddling the puppy. 

"What's he called?" he asked. 

"Taiwam," Raph said. Don raised an eyebrow. He too knew some Shi'ar; he explained the name to the others. 

"Nice choice, Raph," Mike said sarcastically. Leo had turned the puppy over and was now examining his paws. 

"Nah, Raph's right," Leo said. "Look at this--the little guy's gonna be enormous!" 

"You're right," agreed Don. He rubbed the puppy's stomach. 

Raph swiftly overcame his embarrassment and came across to snatch the puppy from Leo. "Careful, guys, he's just a baby! Some jerk dumped 'im on the highway." _Mystery two, solved,_ Leo thought. 

"Poor puppy," crooned April. "You're so cute..." Casey rolled his eyes. 

"On the news last week," Don said. "There was a story about that. Apparently, a lot of people use that stretch of highway for dumping unwanted pets. Sometimes, if they're old enough and smart enough, they can hack it in the woods for a while. But not little ones like this. I found some dead kittens out there a few weeks ago." 

"Well we'll take good care of this one," said April firmly. "You've been feeding him?" 

"Milk," said Raph eagerly. "With an eyedropper." April nodded. 

"He looks like he's doing fine." She stroked his head gently. "You'll be just fine, little guy." 

Mike suddenly chuckled, and pointed to the bristling Klunk. "Guess that explains Klunk's behavior. And why he didn't want to be near you, dog-boy," he directed at Raph. Mike scooped up his cat. "Don't worry boy. I haven't forgotten you." 

***

A knock on the front door threw the room into silence. All of them were wide-eyed and wondering. Who would come out to this obscure little piece of property in Northampton? Casey slowly moved to the door, and opened it, praying it wouldn't be someone he knew, an old friend of his grandmother's he would have to invite in for coffee. To his relief, it was just a black-haired young man with light blue eyes, not more than 30 years old. Casey studied his clothes: dark slacks and shirt, a black collar with white showing through? _Where have I seen that before?_ he wondered. Then he recalled seeing the priests at the church he'd attended with his parents wearing similar collars. _Must be a church thing._ But what could a priest want here? Casey raised an eyebrow. He could almost feel the tension of his friends back down the hall, who were frozen, listening. "Can I help you?" 

"Yes," he man said firmly, looking Casey in the eye. "My name is Greg Trelland. I'm here to see Donny." Casey was left reeling, not only by the fact that this man knew the turtles at all, but also by the fact that he had found them. He didn't even know if the farm's address was in the county listing. Or maybe that was crazy--Don must have told him. 

"Ahhhh, come in," said Casey, stepping aside and holding the door for Greg as he stepped in. 

"Thank you. Is Donatello here?" He scanned the foyer, looking up the hall toward the living room. 

"'Scuse me," said Casey and almost dashed back down the hall. Obviously there was nothing to report, they'd heard every word, and were staring in shocked silence at Donatello, demanding an explanation. Don wanted to melt. _Oh, no, Greg,_ he thought. _Not now. Not when I'm already in hot water with Raph...._ He'd managed to shut out all he negativity and the hurt feelings. A few minutes ago he'd almost completely forgotten the fights and the anger, he'd actually been laughing and talking with Raph as if nothing had happened. But now all the negativity came flooding back. He felt dizzy. 

"Well?" Leo asked coldly. "Does this guy know you or not." 

"Um." Don cleared his throat. "Yeah. He knows me. I told you about Greg, remember?" 

"You didn't say that he knew who you really were," Mike said quietly. Don bowed his head. It was true--he hadn't really explained that Greg knew that he was a mutant, and knew about his family. 

"But I didn't say he didn't know," Don tried to protest, but he knew it was futile. 

"So you allowed us to believe what you knew was not true." Splinter's voice was never harsh, but it was stern and unyielding, and Don knew that he was in deep trouble. 

"I cannot--believe--that you--would tell--someone--about--us--without--consulting--us," Leo said, making breaks between the words so that his speaking was slow and measured. 

"How many 'a yer other church friends know about us?" snarled Raph, his anger--contained so well these past couple days--suddenly bursting free. 

"No one, it's just Greg!" 

"Yah, RIGHT," growled Raph, so angrily that he started shifting back into his accent. "Like how do we know you're tellin' the truth? Ya LIAR. What'd ja do, go up to the pulpit and make an announcement?" Raph was relentless. His eyes shone with hatred. For once, no one stopped his ranting. The whole group was directing their anger against Don. 

"Now hang on," said a voice. Don realized that Greg had come up the hall and was standing in the doorway watching them rip Don apart. "I think I'd better come clean. It was MY fault that Donatello had to explain things. I'm afraid I got a bit nosy and tried to follow him home. I saw him taking off his disguise, and he had to explain things to me." 

Raph pointed a finger. "Yeah? Well how many people have YOU told, then?" 

Don grabbed his finger and twisted his arm down. "That's not fair, Raph! Greg promised me not to tell, and he's kept his word!" 

"Well maybe YOU'RE the one who's lyin', then!" 

"Hai! Enough!" Splinter sharply cut off the argument. "This arguing is foolishness. Donatello, you should have told us when Greg learned of us." 

"I know...but you were already mad at me, and I didn't want you more angry. And I knew Raph would blow it out of proportion, like he is now." 

"Blowin' it out of proportion, am I?" growled Raph. 

"Raph," Leo cut him off with a glare. April and Casey were utterly silent, not wanting to interrupt the family scene. Shadow was wide-eyed as she clung to April. She'd seen them fight, but never this seriously. And never had Splinter become so involved. Even Mike was slightly afraid to intervene or take sides. Greg stood silently now, watching the turtles glare at each other. 

"We have rules," Raph said evenly. "Rules about not giving ourselves away to every human who asks. The first rules we ever learned." 

Leo gave Don a hard look. "The most important rules we ever learned." He crossed his arms over his plastron. 

"Rules that you break constantly," Don aimed at Raph. 

"Not nearly as much as you. First ya start with this religious bullshit, and then ya start tellin' the whole world about us!" 

"You're exaggerating, Raph," Leo mediated calmly. "One person." 

"How do we know that? He coulda told his entire friggin' church fer all we know!" Raph replied heatedly. "C'mon, Leo, he pulls this crap all the time, and I'm tired of it." 

"What are you saying?" growled Don, getting in Raph's face. 

"I'm sayin' maybe people like you don't BELONG in this family!" 

They all gaped at Raph. Don had an expression on his face as if he'd been slapped. _Good God,_ Don thought. _He really wants me to leave!_ Don suddenly felt fear. He hadn't known that Raph hated him enough to want him out of his life completely. 

"What did you say, Raph?" Mike asked slowly. 

"You heard me," Raph growled. "I'm sayin' there's no place here for people who don't care what happens when they expose their family to danger." He clenched his fists and glared at them all in defiance. Suddenly Mike and Leo both broke out with protests. 

"Raph, you can't--" 

"How dare you presume to--" 

They were hushed by the sound of Splinter's stick slamming against the ground with a force none of them thought his frail body could hold. "That is ENOUGH, I said! Raphael, NO one is leaving. Not this time. If you drive your brother away, Raphael, there will be no healing the rifts between you. Now sit down, ALL of you," he said with a glance at Greg, "And we will discuss this." He sat on the floor, indicating that they should form a circle. April tugged Shadow down beside her as she sat next to Splinter. On Splinter's right, Raph sulkily threw himself down between Leo and Mike, leaving Don to crouch across from Splinter, alone. Behind him, Greg sat cross-legged, leaning against the door's frame. 

Don knew that this was not just about Greg, it was about him and Raph. And it was about Don's religion. This little argument had suddenly turned into a formal family meeting. With the barely restrained glares of fury, and the prickling tension, Don felt like he was on trial for murder. 

"Donatello, what do you have to say?" Splinter began quietly. 

Donatello thought for a moment, then spoke. "I admit that I should have told you when I explained about us to Greg. And I confess that I've been somewhat difficult to deal with this past year. But I can't apologize for my beliefs if they offend anyone-" Raphael sucked in his breath, but Splinter motioned him to be silent. "And I WON'T," Don said heatedly, looking hard at Raph. 

"Raphael," said Splinter with a warning glance. Raphael began calmly. 

"I'm offended not only by Don's beliefs, but by the fact that he won't leave me alone about them. I'm tired of havin' his opinions shoved down my throat!" He glared at Don. 

"Splinter?" asked April hesitantly. 

"You are a member of this family, child. Speak your mind," Splinter said gently. 

"I've been with you guys a long time, and--well, I hate to see you at odds like this. You're supposed to be a family, and it's Christmas Eve! I think Don and Raph are both at fault and maybe...maybe they just need to apologize and forget about it." 

"Uh-" Casey cleared his throat and Splinter nodded to him. "I'll second that. Don and Raph, you guys both need ta chill out." 

Leo cleared his throat and then spoke, with Splinter's permission. "Over the past few days, there's been increasing tension between Donatello and Raphael. In fact, throughout this whole group. At first I thought it was dropping off, but I was wrong. I've said before that Donatello was wrong to force his ideas on us. And though Raphael is not wrong to take offense at it, he IS wrong in that he lets Don get to him, and he retaliates with violence and hatred more often than not. They both need to apologize for acting like jerks and making what seems to be a valient attempt at ruining Christmas. And they need to apologize to one another, as well." 

They could all see from Splinter's nod that he agreed with Leonardo. "Michaelangelo? What do you have to say?" 

"I think everything's pretty much been said," Mike said, unusually serious. "Don and Raph are both wrong, they both need to apologize and make up. And you guys, you're letting something really stupid come between you." 

Don bristled. "My religion is not--" Splinter waved him silent. 

Mike continued. "I'm not saying either of your belief systems are stupid or wrong. Just that it's stupid to argue over it and hate each other just because you don't think the same way! That's happened so many times throughout history, and it's always caused trouble. Even today, a lot of the crimes we've stopped have been caused because one group is different from another one, and they hate each other because of it. It's not right. You two just have to WAKE UP and see what hatred is doing to you, and doing to this family!" Mike finished in a rush, and sat back, breathing hard. Raphael was staring at the floor, not looking at anyone. Don looked startled, but understanding. 

"Sir?" came the hesitant voice. They all looked at Greg. "Sir, I'd like to say something, if it's all right." 

Splinter nodded. "Despite the anger and hostility you see here, Greg, you are not the source of this trouble. Of course it's all right for you to speak." 

"Thank you. I'm sorry if I caused trouble for Donatello, but I have a feeling this problem has existed for some time, and not just from what Don has told me about it. I'm a Christian, and as such I have a real problem with the kind of anger and divisiveness I'm seeing here. Raphael seems to be reacting badly to the entire situation. But Donatello--you're wrong, too." Donatello's eyes were wide as he stared at Greg. "I don't mean wrong in belief; there's nothing wrong with wanting your family to believe as you do, to be saved. Salvation through Jesus Christ is God's greatest gift, and most Christians have the desire to share it with those they love." Raphael snorted, but Greg ignored him. 

"But you cannot force someone to change their beliefs or abandon their own faith. Donatello, could Raphael force you to renounce your faith and believe as he does?" Silently, Don shook his head no. "Then why do you think you could force him to renounce HIS beliefs?" The room was dead silent. "That doesn't mean you can't share your faith. But you've tried witnessing and your family is not ready to accept what you believe. There is more than one way to share your faith. I think your best course is to be a silent witness." Greg could see Don's confusion. "The best way for you to share your faith right now is to give yourself up to God and let your family see how faith has changed you. 

"Your family and friends know what you were like before, and they are comparing the old Donatello to the new one. By forcing yourself on them, you make yourself look like a jerk, and you turn them away from faith in God. Just be the way Jesus wants you to be; you don't have to try to look perfect, but there will be a change in you, even if it is not noticeable at first. And when they see the change, maybe they'll get curious and want to learn more about your faith. If you really love your family and want them to come to Christ, give them time." 

"So according to you, I really messed up," Don said softly. 

"Yes, I'm afraid you have. That's why I told you to lay off before." 

"Then what do I do know?" Don sounded helpless and he felt alone. 

Greg smiled at him. "Apologize to your family, apologize to God, and ask forgiveness from both quarters. Then stop trying to evangelize and be your changed self. God will take care of it. You have to have faith in that." Slowly, Don nodded. All of them were affected by Greg's wise words. Even Raph was looking a little less skeptical and distrustful. 

Splinter spoke again, breaking the silence with the 'sentence.' "Donatello and Raphael. Your stubbornness and anger have disturbed everyone and you must apologize." 

"Now?" Donatello was dismayed. 

"Yes, now," Splinter said firmly. "Donatello." 

Don sighed. "I-I've said a lot of stuff that's...upset everybody. And I've been fighting with Raph and upsetting everybody more....So I guess-I'm sorry. I hope you guys can forgive me for acting the way I have been." 

"I can," Splinter said. With a smile, he granted the requested forgiveness. "Raphael." 

Raphael was even more reluctant than Donatello had been, but he knew that Splinter was not going to let him back out of this one. "I, uh, I've been getting real angry at Don about stupid stuff an' upsetting you guys, an' I'm sorry," he said quickly. 

"Raphael, you are forgiven." Splinter twitched his whiskers and looked stern. "But now, you must apologize to each other." Raphael and Donatello looked at each other with dismay. Despite what Greg had said, Donatello was not yet ready to apologize personally to Raphael. It was okay to apologize to the group for fighting. That was easy. But to admit to Raph that he was wrong...he just wasn't ready. He could see from Raph's face that he was not ready either. Splinter noted their expressions. "I must be somewhat lax in judgment for the moment. You need not apologize now, and it need not be formally, in front of everyone. Think about it, and apologize to each other at some point before we leave to return to New York. This meeting is finished. I am going to have lunch. Greg is welcome to stay for the rest of the day, and he is invited to dinner as well." 

Raph didn't look happy about this at all, but Splinter had invited Greg personally, and Raph couldn't argue. The room slowly emptied as they all wandered into the kitchen, leaving Don alone with Greg. "Thanks, Greg," he said softly. "I'm sorry you had to see that." 

Greg waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't mention it. I meant everything I said, too. It'll turn out okay." Greg laid a reassuring hand on Don's shoulder. "Now I order you to cheer up. It's Christmas Eve." 

Don smiled at him. "I can't believe you came all the way out here to see me!" Greg laughed. 

"Wellll...I didn't want to wait until you got back to give you this." He handed Don a brightly wrapped box. 

"Should I wait to open this?" 

"Nah, I wanna see you. Open it now." Greg grinned as Don tore the paper off his gift, revealing a dark green box. He carefully took off the lid and lifted out a leather-covered green book. The pages were edged in gold, and on the cover in gold were a small cross and in the lower right hand corner, Donatello's name. Don hugged Greg. 

"Greg! I can't believe you got me this!" 

"You like it?" 

"I LOVE it! Thank you!" Don cradled the hymnal, carefully flipping through the thin pages. Then he gently settled it back into the box. "I have something for you, too, but you'll have to come to the barn to see it." 

"Sure," Greg agreed. Don quickly shoved on his boots and wrapped up in his jacket. 

"C'mon!" He led Greg out to his workshop, and then carefully removed something from a high shelf. He handed it to Greg with a sheepish grin. "Sorry I didn't get the chance to wrap it--I just finished it, and I didn't expect to see you till next week." 

"Doesn't matter," Greg was saying, but he broke off when he saw what Don had handed him. It was a crucifix, about a foot high, too large to wear, but it was made for hanging on a wall. The cross was carefully squared away, and the image of Christ carved against it was exquisite. He hung against the cross, a picture of agony. The carefully sculpted expression on his face revealed agony and death--but also love and pity. Greg was agape as he stared at it. "Don--this, this is incredible. I've never seen anything so finely done in my life." Don blushed. "Thank you." He hugged Don tightly, and Don was not embarrassed to hug his friend back. 

***

By the time they all sat down to dinner that night, Greg had done the rounds, making friends with most of the family. He had won them over one by one: discussing philosophy with Splinter (he'd been a philosophy major in college), watching Leo perform katas, sipping tea with April, chopping firewood with Casey, and playing a board game with Shadow. And he instantly won Mike over by complimenting him on his lasagna. The only person still unconvinced was Raph, and he hadn't even let Greg get close enough to talk to him. 

Raph seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Greg when he joined Casey on a last-minute shopping trip into Northampton. But to everyone's surprise, Don decided to go too. He left Greg to get to know his family and climbed into the van. Casey watched in the rearview mirror as Raph and Don sat on opposite sides of the cargo area and ignored each other. But thankfully, there were no expolosions. 

Casey did notice something very peculiar, however. After some wanderings, Raph manuevered his way into the Christian Light Bookstore. And Don somehow managed to find himself in the Pop music section of The Wall, a place he normally wouldn't be caught dead. Casey thought about making a joke about it; but he decided that there must be something going on, or why else would the boys be sneaking around? Perhaps it would be better if he kept his mouth shut.... 

At dinner, Raph could no longer avoid Greg, and the others watched the two uneasily as Raph glared at Greg. Raph shifted in his seat, wishing he was somewhere else. But a few stern words from Splinter halted his first plan--to split and return to the farmhouse after Greg had gone--and he had no choice. Greg seemed oblivious to Raph's dislike. He put a forkful of lasagna into his mouth. "Mmm," he said after he swallowed. "Mike, this is heaven." Mike beamed as Leo and Don rolled their eyes. 

Mike carefully tasted his creation. "Ah, another culinary delight from the kitchen of Michaelangelo." 

April snorted. "Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back, Mike." Even Raph cracked a grin at Mike's rueful look. 

"Just making an observation," he said, wounded. 

"I think it's wonderful," Greg assured him. 

"Ah, don't let that old faker fool you," scoffed Leo. "He's made this a million times and he knows we know it's perfect." 

"Yes," agreed Splinter. "Your cooking is wonderful, as always, Michaelangelo. But your ego--I think it has been overcooked." Mike gaped as they reeled with helpless laughter. 

"Good one, Master," tittered Donatello. 

"Are you feeling ill, Splinter?" April asked, frowning in concern. 

"Don't look now, Splinter just made a joke!" exclaimed Casey. Greg watched them in puzzlement. 

"Yes. It must be the Apocalypse, is that right?" asked Splinter, anticipating the next joke. 

"Two in a row!" whooped Mike. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a record!" 

"Ta da!" cried Leo. 

"Is it always this funny around here?" Greg asked Don. 

"No," Raph replied irritably, playing with his fork. 

April tried to steer them away from a possible argument. "There's a rule that Mike has to make this at least once when we all get together." 

"Raph?" Raphael tensed as Greg addressed him. "Could you please pass me the bread?" Relaxing, Raph complied. Klunk sauntered up to Greg and meowed pitifully. "Hey, boy." 

Mike leaned a little towards Greg and whispered conspiratorially, "Tell ya a secret. You give him a piece of meat from your lasagna, and he'll be your friend for life." Greg obediently gave the cat a chunk of the meat. After he swallowed it, Klunk purred contentedly, rubbing against Greg's leg. Suddenly reminded of something, Raph jumped up and went into the living room. When he returned, he carried Taiwam in his arms. Greg watched as he went about heating milk for the puppy. 

"May I hold him?" he asked. Raph darted a suspicious look at Greg, then carefully placed the tiny dog in his lap. Greg stroked Taiwam as Raph hovered protectively. "He's adorable. What's his name?" 

"Taiwam. It means 'huge'." 

Greg chuckled. "It'll be a while before he grows into that one. I don't envy you, having to get up in the small hours to feed him; young puppies can be a pain." 

Raph looked at him suspiciously. "How would you know?" 

"My mom loved dogs. She was always bringing strays home and there were always lots of puppies around, so I learned to feed them." 

"Oh yeah?" Raph's tone was not as challenging as his words, and the others realized that he was softening. "Prove it." He thrust the dropper at Greg and set the bowl down on the table. Greg gently fed the puppy until it could drink no more. Raph looked at him with grudging respect. The others saw that between Greg's love of puppies and the fact that he hadn't mentioned religion all night, Raph had finally accepted the man. 

***

"Do you have to go?" asked Shadow as Greg put on his coat. 

"I'm afraid so. I got out of doing the evening service at church, Pastor Tim covered for me. But it's late, and I have to get back home to do morning service tomorrow." He grinned at Shadow. "Dinner was great, though." 

"Hey, when we're back in New York, you should come visit us again," Mike suggested. 

"Yeah," added Raph. "Don can give you the address." 

"I'd like that," Greg said. "Merry Christmas, all of you." His gaze rested on Raph for a moment. "Don, would you walk me out to my car?" 

"Sure," said Don, and they bundled up. They went down the walk in silence, and soon stood next to Greg's car. "How did you do it?" Don blurted. 

"Do what?" Greg asked gently. 

"Get them to accept you so fast! When they knew about your beliefs ahead of time!" 

"I did what I told you to do, Don. I was myself. I just had to give them the chance to see that despite my relationship with God, I'm a real person, and I can laugh and have fun, not just spend all my time preaching." He put his hand on Don's shoulder. "Think about what I said, Donatello." 

"I will," Don said softly. 

"Merry Christmas." Greg got into his car and started it up. 

"Merry Christmas, Greg," Don replied. Then he stepped back from the car so Greg could back slowly out into the snow-layered street. Smiling to himself, Don turned and walked back up toward the house, where his family was waiting for him. 

* * *

# December 25, 2004, Christmas Day

Mike and Shadow were downstairs by seven am. Giggling and shaking presents like a couple of six-year-olds, and waiting for the inevitable arrival of the others. And eventually everyone did drift downstairs, piling onto the living room furniture with the coffee and hot chocolate Mike had made. 

Raph was actually downstairs right after Mike, up early to feed Taiwam. Leo and Don and Splinter, then finally Casey and April made their way towards the tree. They were soon laughing at Mike's antics and deliberately childish behavior. And in all the excitement, no one saw Raph slip a plain, flat package underneath Don's pile of gifts. And no one saw Don shove a shoebox-shaped package behind Raph's pile. 

They all seemed to have forgotten the stress of the past week as Mike slipped a Christmas CD into the CD player/boombox they'd brought with them to the farmhouse. Leo and Mike argued good-naturedly about whether they should take turns unwrapping gifts or tear into them all at once. Eventually, it was agreed to unwrap the presents Leo's way. And even Mike conceded that the presents would last longer that way. 

So they tore to, teasing and laughing. Christmases past, so much had gone wrong; fights and wounds and near-death experiences. But this time, it was just family and friends around a tree, having fun and unwrapping presents together. The presents were also a far cry from those of Christmases past. The turtles had never had much money for gifts. And though they never complained about the lack of presents, it was nice to have them, now that they did have money. Even Leo had mustered enough cash to compete with his brothers. And Splinter didn't need money to make his gifts meaningful. 

Too, it felt good to the brothers to give nice gifts to their human friends. Not that a Christmas gift could make up for all the hardship Casey, April, and even Shadow had endured for their sake. But after all the three had given them, both spiritually and materially, it was nice to return something. 

Raph got Casey a pair of top-quality bats; bats were easily broken in heavy fighting, and often had to be replaced. Shadow got a stuffed bear from Mike, who seemed to be obsessed with the things, but it was okay because Shadow was, too. April got some new books. Don got a new computer game he'd had his eye on, Leo got the bookcase from Don, and the others got assorted carvings from Don's workshop as well. Mike got a stuffed animal of his own, which made him and Shadow laugh again. Raph got a collar and leash for Taiwam, which Casey had managed to find at the last minute. Splinter got a gorgeous kimono from April, which made him smile although he was sure she had spent far too much on it. 

All in all, everyone (even Klunk, who had received a stuffed mouse and a box of Kat Krunchies) was happy and content. 

Except, of course, for the dispute which lurked in all of their minds. They all saw it, in the way Don and Raph would smile tightly and look away when they were mentioned in the same sentence. Or how they pointedly ignored each other. But somehow, it didn't seem to be a silence out of anger, but out of tension. And everyone noticed that Raph and Don hadn't opened any gifts from each other, but they pretended not to notice. After all, if they didn't want to exchange gifts, there was nothing anyone could- 

Don slowly lifted one last gift, almost buried in the heap of wrapping paper under the tree. He flipped it over, checking the tag, and then looked up at Raph in surprise. Raph smiled, very, very faintly. Don made a slight gesture at the tree trunk. Up against the tree holder, Raph found a box nestled. He picked it up. 

Mike watched the pantomime-like movements and wanted to laugh. He barely restrained himself. The glances the two darted at each other and the gifts, the slight movements of the mouth that might have been smiles. It was a shy dance of caution, and it struck him as tremendously funny. But before he could comment, Leo broke in: 

"Hey, do you guys plan on opening those?" 

"Or are you going to sit there and look at each other funny all day?" Mike couldn't resist teasing. Don and Raph both glared before turning their attention back to the gifts. 

"You first," Raph said graciously. 

"Uh, no, I think you should open yours first." 

"You go ahead." 

"You're older." 

"Well, you're younger. You should go first." 

"Really, I insist." 

"Oh, give me a break!" exclaimed April. "Quit being such babies." 

"Why don't you both open them at once?" suggested Mike, stifling a giggle. 

"Good idea," said Don. Raph nodded. 

"One," counted Leo, on the verge of laughter himself. "Two..." The two were trying to look dignified and indignant at the giggles of their friends. _But,_ Leo thought, _It's their own darn fault. If they weren't acting like demented two-year-olds, it wouldn't be so funny!_ "Three!" 

Don and Raph obediently tore the gifts open. Despite the verbal fencing, they were equally eager to see what was inside...Don sat with the open gift in his lap, staring at what lay there. Newsboys, The Waiting, Jars of Clay--old stuff, it was true, the bands were widely popular in '98 and '99...But....his _favorite bands_...._Christian_ bands.... 

His head jerked up and he stared at Raph, who had pried open the shoebox and now was holding up-with the faintest of smirks-the latest in grunge and hard rock; the same kind of music Donatello constantly criticized for its vulgarity and harshness of sound.... 

Splinter smiled knowingly, but everybody else just stared in slack-jawed amazement. Pure irony. They heard a strange sound and saw the corners of Raph's mouth twitching; with a shock, they realized that both he and Don were struggling not to laugh. Don gave in first. He practically jumped the few feet to wrap his arms around his brothers shoulders, laughing helplessly. Raph began to laugh too, and soon they were holding each other up, howling with laughter as the rest of their family looked on in stunned amusement. 

***

They lounged around the living room, trying to postpone the inevitable clean-up session. April, Casey, Splinter, Leo, and Shadow were lying on the furniture. Don, Raph, and Mike sprawled on the floor, their bodies pillowed by the wrapping paper. 

Raph looked over at Don where he lay with his arms behind his head. "What ya thinkin'?" he asked, breaking the relaxed silence. 

Don returned his glance. "You really want to know?" It was the first time in months Raph had actually expressed an interest in what he, Don, was thinking about. 

"Yeah." 

"Luke 2:14; Glory to God in the highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men." It was a verse Don had always connected with; a little peace and good will was definitely a cool thing. 

They all waited a beat, expected Raph to explode. 

"Don't ya mean 'turtles'?" 

A silent sigh of relief. 

Don raised an eyeridge. "Peace on Earth, goodwill to turtles?" 

Raph shrugged. "Well....why not?" 

As Splinter sat in his chair, watching his sons laughing together, he allowed a smile of contentment to cross his lips. "Why not, indeed." 

* * *

_This end note is written in the form of a question and answer session between myself and an unnamed questioner. This is my way of talking about my story and being preachy, so if you're not interested, feel free to skip it. However, I encourage you to read it and get my thoughts on the story, especially if you plan to e-mail me personally, and even more especially if you plan to flame me. :-)_

# Author's End Note

**So that's it? The story ends there?**

Yup, that's the end. 

**So what happens next?**

I don't know. The next story in the chronology (that I've written) is "Forever, Always Young," which takes place in 2011. 

**"Peace On Earth, Goodwill To Turtles." Does that mean they live happily ever after?**

The Ninja Turtles? Happily ever after? Somehow I doubt it. 

**No, no, I mean Don and Raph. What really happened?**

Well, they apologized to each other, in their own way. I was trying to infer that with the giving of the CDs. Actually, I thought it was pretty obvious. 

**And after that? You didn't really resolve it, did you?**

Well, that one conflict between Don and Raph was resolved. There may be others at some point. But if you mean I didn't fix it so they would never argue about religion again; no, I didn't. 

**Why not? Wouldn't it be nice if everything went back to the way it used to be, before the religious issues came up?**

Yeah, it would be. But life doesn't work that way. Shit happens, you deal with it, and you move on. 

**Why did you decide to make Don a Lutheran anyway?**

Because I'm a Lutheran and I figure I know more about the Lutherans than, say, about the Mormons. Or some other group. "Write what you know." Also, I'm lazy and I didn't have to do so much research that way. 

**You're a Christian?**

Is there an echo in here? 

**Oh, I understand. You're on Don's side in this whole fight, and Raph's the bad guy.**

No, actually I- 

**This was just your subversive way of incorporating Christianity into your fanfiction. I know how you Christians work; you want to sugar-coat Christian teachings and try to force us to swallow them.**

Will you just- 

**So you use my favorite heroes to preach your religion. I'm real impressed. Have you no shame?**

SHUT UP. 

**What?**

Shut up and listen, will ya? Yeah, I'm Christian, and I incorporated some Christian teachings into this story. But I wasn't just beating on Raph either; I thought I gave Don a couple knocks. In fact, for this story I turned Don into just the type of person who really irritates me: I call them die-hard evangelists, people who force their faith on others without any limits of respect, decency, or kindness. Even if the beliefs they're pushing are good, they tend to push them too hard. Like Greg said, sometimes you need to back off and let God do the preaching for you. 

**So if you and Donatello are both Lutheran, you WERE expressing your beliefs in the story, right?**

Sort of. I share some of the beliefs Don expressed in the story, but I will not say which ones. Many things I believe upset people. I'm not going to stop believing in God or declaring my faith because it offends people, that's not what I mean at all. But there are some aspects of the faith I just don't feel comfortable telling non-believers about constantly. It's a matter of tact, which die-hard evangelists don't have. That's why they're so bad for Christianity (in general). If you go around telling people they're going straight to hell, they're naturally going to start thinking that Christians are jerks and Christianity is a bunch of crap. 

**And you're trying to convince us that it's not?**

Well, yeah, but that's not the point of the story. 

**So what is the point?**

This is a tough one to pin down. And I hope you're not just skimming this looking for a quick answer. The point of the story was to make the reader think about something we don't like (as a society) to think about: religion. Everybody thinks religion is something private you should do in home and at church (or temple, or mosque, or synagogue, or wherever) and not talk about in public. Everybody always gets offended when others talk about their faith or their God, and I think it's important that we DO talk about faith. I think mostly the story is about tolerance. 

**Define "tolerance."**

First, I'll tell you what tolerance ISN'T. Tolerance doesn't mean "everyone believes something different, and whatever you want to believe is right." I deny that, as many people do. People accuse Christians of being bigots because we believe that our religion is right. I mean, if you don't believe that you're right, what's the point of having a belief at all, you know what I mean? My definition of tolerance is: "everyone has a right to believe what they want to believe. Even if I think you're wrong, you're still entitled to your beliefs, and I've got to respect that." That's what I tried to write about here. 

Don and Raph's problem was that they refused to acknowledge that each of them had a right to have their own beliefs. 

**So how does that connect to the ending?**

Well what I was trying to bring across is that Don and Raph managed to learn something about tolerance. Don's not going to stop believing in God, and Raph's not going to convert to Christianity. If either of those things happened, I'd be lying to my readers, because life doesn't happen that way. What really happened, as far as I can see, is that Raph and Don realized that they could love and respect one another without giving in and renouncing their own beliefs. Christians and non-Christians can be close as brothers and as friends without ripping each other to shreds about religious belief. 

**So it really was a happy ending.**

Yeah, I like to think so. Not that Don and Raph's relationship will be all sunshine and laughter for the rest of their lives, but they both learned something. And they resolved their immediate conflict. And that makes it a happy ending. 

**So couldn't you tell this story without using the TMNT?**

Yeah, but I wanted to use TMNT, characters we are all familiar with, to discuss issues we may NOT be familiar with. 

**Huh?**

Maybe people pay more attention if the story is interesting. I used the TMNT to make it interesting. At least I hope it was. I was a bit preachy and serious at times, I know. But I also spent a lot of time on the "fun" parts, like the scenes with the puppy, Taiwam, and the snowball fight. I wanted this to be a fun read, but I hoped I could say something significant at the same time. 

**Speaking of Taiwam, will we see him or Greg Trelland again?**

I don't know about Greg. But Taiwam is a permanant part of the storyline, so you may see him again. He also appears in Round 1 of "Crystal Queer," my elementals story. 

**I still have more questions. Will you be upset if I challenge some of what you've said?**

Of course not. If you have more questions about anything you've read here, [e-mail me.][1] I'd like to hear from you if you like my story, or even if you hate it. And if you just want to chat about religion or TMNT or life in general, I'd be perfectly happy to. 

(Most TMNT fans don't see the religious side of me. I try not to bring religion up on mailing lists or chat rooms, because with a big group of people from all different backgrounds, one badly timed or misinterpretted comment can turn into an all-out flame war. People get hurt and mad at each other, and sometimes the wounds never really heal. And unfortunately, religion is more likely to cause a flame war than any other topic. I have experience with this type of thing; on one TMNT mailing list, I've seen a couple misplaced comments from nice people spiral out of control until the list became the Hate Inferno. Then people start making general comments about whole groups of people and everyone gets dragged in. I've also been in a situation where a calm discussion about homosexuality (with a group of good friends) turned into a Bible-quoting, curse-spewing, insult-hurling free-for-all. It's not fun and it's not pretty.) 

But anyway, I like to think of myself as being open-minded enough to accept honest criticism of my beliefs and my writing. The only thing that would be unacceptable to me would be something like: "Dear Christian Bigot; I hate your writing, and therefore I hate you personally. You and your work both suck." etc., etc. But I'm feelin' good, because although a few friends of mine have had letters like these, I haven't yet. (Knock on wood and cross your fingers, or whatever it is that you do.) :-) 

**Any final words?**

Yeah. Congradulations if you actually made it all the way through the story and through this author's note thing. I'm impressed. And whoever you are, whatever you believe, here's wishing you happy holidays. As I am so fond of saying in my rare moments of seriousness: 

Peace, honor, and love go with you, now and always, 

Lindsay (the Blue one) 

   [1]: mailto:ltree32347@aol.com



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